There was no perceptible hurry at her words, but a few minutes later
all were seated about the big table in the kitchen with a hearty supper
spread before them.
Uncle Amos was of a jovial, teasing disposition, prone to occasional
shrewd thrusts at the idiosyncrasies of his acquaintances, but he held
sacred things sacred and rendered to reverent things their due
reverence. It was his acknowledged privilege to say grace, at the meals
served in the Reist home.
That April evening, after he said, "Amen," Philip turned to Amanda and
said, "Polly wants some too."
The girl burst into gay laughter. Everybody at the table looked at her
in surprise.
"What's funny?" asked Aunt Rebecca.
"I'll tell you," Phil offered. "Last Saturday we were back at Harnly's.
They have two parrots on the porch, and all morning we tried to get
those birds to talk. They just sat and blinked at us, looked wise, but
said not a word. I forgot all about them when we went in to dinner, but
we had just sat down and bowed our heads for grace when those birds
began to talk. They went at it as though some person had wound them up.
'Polly wants some dinner; Polly wants some, too. Give Polly some too.'
Well, it struck me funny. Their voices were so shrill and it was such a
surprise after they refused to say a word, that I got to laughing. I
gave Amanda a nudge, and she got the giggles."
"It was awful," said Amanda. "If Phil hadn't nudged me I could have
weathered through by biting my lips."
"I don't see anything to laugh about when two parrots talk," was Aunt
Rebecca's remark. "Anyhow, that was no time to laugh. I guess you'll
remember what I tell you, some day when you got to cry for all this
laughin' you do now."
"Ach," said the mother, "let 'em laugh. I guess we were that way too
once."
"Bully for you, Mother," cried the boy; "you're as young as any of us."
"That's what," chimed in Millie.
"Oh, say, Millie," asked Philip, "did you make that cherry pie I
finished up after school to-day?"
"Yes. Was it good?"
"Good? It melted in my mouth. When I marry, Millie, I'm going to borrow
you for a while to come teach my wife how to make such pies."
"Listen at him now! Ain't it a wonder he wouldn't think to get a wife
that knows how to cook and bake? But, Philip Reist, you needn't think
I'll ever leave your mom unless she sends me off."
"Wouldn't you, now, Millie?" asked Uncle Amos.
"Why, be sure, not! I ain't forgettin' how nice she was to me a'ready.
I had hard enough to make through before I came here to work. I had a
place to live out in Readin' where I was to get big money, but when I
got there I found I was to go in the back way always, even on Sunday,
and was to eat alone in the kitchen after they eat, and I was to go to
my room and not set with the folks at all. I just wouldn't live like
that, so I come back to Lancaster County and heard about you people
wantin' a girl, and here I am."