However, when Jonas Miller died and left the hoarded money to his wife
she did not let it fly. She rented the big farm and moved to the little
old-fashioned house in Landisville--a little house whose outward
appearance might have easily proclaimed its tenant poor. There she
lived alone, with occasional visits and visitors to break the monotony
of her existence.
That Sunday morning of the Reist visit, Uncle Amos hitched the horse to
the carriage, tied it by the front fence of the farm, then he went
up-stairs and donned his Sunday suit of gray cloth. Later he brought
out his broad-brimmed Mennonite hat and called to Amanda and her mother,
"I'm ready. Come along!"
Mrs. Reist wore a black cashmere shawl pinned over her plain gray lawn
dress and a stiff black silk bonnet was tied under her chin. Amanda
skipped out to the yard, wearing a white dress with a wide buff sash. A
matching ribbon was tied on her red hair.
"Jiminy," whistled Uncle Amos as she ran to him and swung her leghorn
hat on its elastic. "Jiminy, you're pretty---"
"Oh, am I, Uncle Amos?" She smiled radiantly. "Am I really pretty?"
"Hold on, here!" He tried to look very sober. "If you ain't growin' up
for sure! Lookin' for compliments a'ready, same as all the rest. I was
goin' to say that you're pretty fancy dressed for havin' a Mennonite
mom."
"Oh, Uncle Amos!" Amanda laughed and tossed her head so the yellow bow
danced like a butterfly. "I don't believe you at all! You're too good
to be findin' fault like that! Millie says so, too."
"She does, eh? She does? Just what does Millie say about me now?"
"Why, she said yesterday that you're the nicest man and have the
biggest heart of any person she knows."
"Um--so! And Millie says that, does she? Um--so! well, well"--a glow of
joy spread in his face and stained his neck and ears. Fortunately, for
his future peace of mind, the child did not notice the flush. A
swallowtail butterfly had flitted among the zinnias and attracted the
attention of Amanda so it was diverted from her uncle. But he still
smiled as Millie opened the front door and she and Mrs. Reist stepped
on the porch.
Millie, in her blue gingham dress and her checked apron, her straight
hair drawn back from her plain face, was certainly no vision to cause
the heart of the average man to pump faster. But as Amos looked at her
he saw suddenly something lovelier than her face. She walked to the
gate, smoothing the shawl of Mrs. Reist, patting the buff sash of the
little girl.
"Big heart," thought Amos, "it's her got the big heart!"
"Good-bye, safe journey," the hired girl called after them as they
started down the road. "Don't worry about us. Me and Phil can manage
alone. Good-bye."