"I'm glad, Amanda, if you remember such things, for I want you to grow
up into a nice, good woman."
"Like you and Millie, ain't? I'm goin' to. I ain't forgot, neither,
that once when I laughed at Katie for saying the Dutch word for
calendar and gettin' all her English mixed with Dutch, you told me it's
not nice to laugh at people. But I forgot it the other day, Mom, when
we laughed at Aunt Rebecca and treated her mean. But she's so cranky
and--and---"
"And she helped sew on your dresses," added the mother.
"Now that was ugly for us to act so! Why, ain't it funny, Mom, it
sounds so easy to say abody should be kind and yet sometimes it's so
hard to do it. When Aunt Rebecca comes next time I'm just goin' to see
once if I can't be nice to her."
"Of course you are. She's comin' to-morrow to help with the apple
butter. But now you must go to sleep or you can't get up early to see
Millie put the cider on. Philip, he's asleep this long while already."
A few minutes later the child was in bed and called a last good-night
to the mother, who stood in the hall, a little lighted lamp in her
hand. Amanda had an eye for beauty and the picture of her mother
pleased her.
"Ach, Mom," she called, "just stand that way a little once, right
there."
"Why?"
"Ach, you look wonderful like a picture I saw once, in that gray dress
and the lamp in your hand. It's pretty."
"Now, now," chided the mother gently, "you go to sleep now.
Good-night."
"Good-night," Amanda called after the retreating figure.