Amanda: A Daughter of the Mennonites - Page 57/147

"Oh! All right," came the calm reply. "I'll see you again. Good-night,

Amanda."

"Good-night, Martin."

She looked after him as he walked away, the plumed knight of her

castles in Spain. She had knighted him that day long ago when he had

put out the fire and kissed her hand, and during the interval of years

that childish affection had grown in her heart. In her thoughts he was

still "My Martin." But the object of that long-abiding affection showed

all too plainly that he was not cognizant of what was in the heart of

his childhood's friend. To him she was still "Just Amanda," good

comrade, sincere friend.

Fortunately love and hope are inseparable. Amanda thought frequently of

the verse, "God above is great to grant as mighty to make, and creates

the love to reward the love." It was not always so, she knew, but she

hoped it would be so for her. Martin Landis, unselfish, devoted to his

people, honest as a dollar, true as steel--dear Martin, how she wanted

to walk home with him that night of the Spelling Bee instead of going

with Lyman Mertzheimer!

The voice of the latter roused her from her revery. "I say, Amanda, are

we going to stay here all night? Why in thunder can't those fools go

home so you can lock the door and go! And I say, Amanda, don't you

think Martin Landis is letting himself grow shabby and seedy? He's

certainly settling into a regular clodhopper. He shuffled along like a

hecker to-night. I don't believe he ever has his clothes pressed."

"Martin's tired to-night," she defended, her eyes flashing fire. "He

worked in the fields all day, helping his father. Then he and one of

his brothers took their team and went after some chairs I wanted to

borrow for the Spelling Bee. They arranged the room for me, too."

"Oh, I see. Poor fellow! It must be the very devil to be poor!"

The words angered the girl. "Well," she flared out, "if you want to

talk about Martin Landis, you go home. I'll get home without you."

"Now, Amanda," he pleaded sweetly, "don't get huffy, please! I want you

in a good humor. I have something great to tell you. Can't you take a

bit of joshing? Of course, it's fine in you to defend your old friends.

But I didn't really mean to say anything mean about Martin. You do get

hot so easily."

"It must be my red-hair-temper," she said, laughing. "I do fly off the

handle, as Phil says, far too soon."

"Shall we go now?" Lyman asked as the last lingering visitors left the

room.

The lights were put out, the schoolhouse door locked, and Amanda and

Lyman started off on the dark country road. Peals of merry laughter

floated back to them occasionally from a gay crowd of young people who

were also going home from the Spelling Bee. But there were none near

enough to hear what most wonderful thing Lyman had to say to Amanda.