"So it would. We could have it in the orchard."
"On a nice rainy day in May," he said.
"Pessimist! It doesn't rain every day in May!"
There followed happy, excited times when the matter of a house was
discussed. Those were wonderful hours in which the two hunted a nest
that would be near enough to the city for Martin's daily commuting and
yet have so much of the country about it as to boast of green grass and
space for flowers. It was found at length, a little new bungalow
outside the city limits in a residential section where gardens and
trees beautified the entire street.
"Do you know," Mrs. Reist said to Uncle Amos one day, "there's another
little house for sale in that street. If it wasn't for breakin' up the
home for you and Millie I'd buy it and Philip and I could move in
there. It would be nice and handy for him. I'm gettin' tired of such a
big house. There I could do the work myself. There'd be room for you to
come with us, but I wouldn't need Millie. I don't like to send her off
to some other people. We had her so long a'ready, and she's a good,
faithful worker. Ach, I guess I'll have to give up thinkin' about doin'
anything like that."
"Well, well, now let me think once." Uncle Amos scratched his head.
Then an inscrutable smile touched his lips. "Well, now," he said after
a moment's meditation, "now I don't see why it can't be arranged some
way. There's more'n one way sometimes to do things. I don't know--I
don't know--but I think I can see a way we could manage that--
providin'--ach, we'll just wait once, mebbe it'll come out right."
Mrs. Reist looked at her brother. What did he mean? He stammered and
smiled like a foolish schoolboy. Poor Amos, she thought, how hard he
had worked all his life and how little pleasure he had seemed to get
out of his days! He was growing old, too, and would soon be unable to
do the work on a big farm.
But Uncle Amos seemed spry enough several days later when he and Millie
entered the big market wagon to go to Lancaster with the farm products.
They left the Reist farmhouse early in the morning, a cold, gray winter
day.
"Say, Millie," he said soon after they began the drive, "I want to talk
with you."
"Well," she answered dryly, "what's to keep you from doin' so? Here I
am. Go on."
"Ach, Millie, now don't get obstreperous! Manda's mom would like to
sell the farm and move to Lancaster to a little house. Then she
wouldn't need me nor you."
"What? Are you sure, Amos?"
"Sure! She told me herself. That would leave us out a home. For I don't
want to live in no city and set down evenings and look at houses or
trolley cars. You can hire out to some other people, of course."