Amanda by Anna Balmer Myers (popular books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Anna Balmer Myers
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She forgot the terror that had seized her as the flames licked up her dress, the scorching touch on her hand was obliterated from her memory and only the healing gentleness of the kiss remained.
âHe kissed my hand,â she thought that night as she lay under her patchwork quilt. âIt was just like the stories we read about in school about the âknights of old that were brave and bold.ââ
She thought of the picture on the schoolhouse wall. Sir Galahad, the teacher had called it, and read those lovely lines that Amanda remembered and likedââMy strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.â
Martin was like that!
When Amanda awoke the next morning her first thought was of the burnt hand and its healing kiss. âWhy, Martinâach, Martinâhe kissed my hand,â she said softly to herself. âJust like they do in the stories about knightsâknights always kiss their ladiesâ hands. Ach, I know what Iâll do! Iâll play Martin Landis is my knight and Iâm his lady grand. Wish Mom was here, then Iâd ask her if she knows anything about what knights do and how the ladies ought to act to them. But sheâs in Lancaster. Mebbe Millie would know. Iâll go ask her once.â
Millie was baking pies when the girl sought her for the information.
âSay, Millie!â
âAch, what?â The hired girl brushed the flour from her bare arms and turned to look at Amanda. âNow I know what you wantâyou smell the pies and you want a half-moon sample to eat before itâs right cold and get your stomach upset and your face all pimply. Ainât?â
âNo,â began the child, then added diplomatically, âwhy, yes, I do want that, but that ainât what I come for.â
Millie laughed. âThen what? But donât bother me for long. I got lots to do yet. I want to get the pies all done till your mom gets back.â
âWhy, Millie, I wondered, do you know anything about knights?â
âNot me. I sleep nights.â
âAch, Millieâknightsâthe kind you read about, the men that wear plumes in their hats.â
âFeathers, you mean? Why, the only man I ever heard of wearinâ a feather in his hat was Yankee Doodle.â
âAch, Millie, you make me mad! But I guess you donât know. Well, tell me thisâif somebody did something for you and you wanted to show you âpreciated it, what would you do?â
âThatâs an easy one! Iâd be nice to them and do things for them or for their people. Now you run and let me be. âBout half an hour from now you dare come in for your half-moon pie. Ach, I most forgot! Your mom said you shall take a little crock of the new apple butter down to Mrs. Landis.â
âA little crock wonât go far with all them children.â
âAch, yes. Itâll smear a lot oâ bread. Iâll pack it in a basket so you can carry it easy. Better put on your sunbonnet so your hair wonât burn red.â
[Illustration: The rhubarb leaf parasol]
âRedder, you mean, ainât? But I wonât need a bonnet. Iâll take my new parasol.â
âParasol,â echoed Millie. âNow whatââ
But Amanda ran away, laughing, and returned in a few minutes holding a giant rhubarb leaf over her head. âDoes the green silk of my parasol look good with my hair?â she asked with an exaggerated air of grandeur.
âGo on, now,â Millie said, laughing, âand donât spill that apple butter or youâll get parasol.â
With a merry goodbye Amanda set off, the basket upon her arm, one hand grasping the red stem of the rhubarb parasol while the great green leaf flopped up and down upon her head in cool ministration.
Down the sunny road she trudged, spasmodically singing bits of gay songs, then again talking to herself. âThis here is a dandy parasol. Coolerân a real one and lots nicerân a bonnet or a hat. Only I wish it was bigger, so my arms would be covered, for itâs hot out to-day.â
When she reached the little red brick country schoolhouse, half-way between her home and the Landis farm, she paused in the shade of a great oak that grew in the school-yard.
âGuess Iâll rest the apple butter a while in this shade,â she said to herself, âand pick a bouquet for my knightâs mom.â From the grassy roadside she gathered yellow and gold butter-and-eggs, blue spikes of false dragonâs head, and edged them with a lacy ruffle of wild carrot flowers.
âThere, thatâs grand!â she said as she held the bouquet at armâs length and surveyed it carefully. âIâll hold it out, just so, and Iâll say to Mrs. Landis, âMother of my knight, I salute you!â I know sheâll be surprised. Mebbe I might tell her just how brave her Martin is and how I made him a knight. Sheâll be glad. It must be a satisfaction to have a boy a knight.â She smiled in happy anticipation of the wonderful message she was going to bring Mrs. Landis. Then she replaced the rhubarb parasol over her head, picked up the basket, and went down the country road to the Landis farm.
âItâs good Landisâs donât live far from our place,â she thought. âMy parasolâs wiltinâ.â
Like the majority of houses in the Crow Hill section of country, the Landis house was set in a frame of green trees and old-fashioned flower gardens. It flaunted in the face of the passer-by an old-time front yard. The wide brick walk that led straight from the gate to the big front porch was edged on both sides with a row of bricks placed corners up. On either side of the walk were bushes, long since placed without the discriminating eye of a landscape gardener but holding in their very randomness a charm unrivaled by any precise planting. Mock-orange bushes and lilacs towered above the low deutzias, while masses of zinnias, petunias, four-oâclocks, and a score of other old-fashioned posies crowded against each other in the long beds that edged the walks and in the smaller round beds that were dotted here and there in the grass. Jaded motorists from the city drove their cars slowly past the glory of the Landis riot of blossoms.
As Amanda neared the place she looked ruefully at her knot of wild flowers. âSheâs got so many pretty ones,â she thought. âBut, ach, I guess sheâll like these here, too, long as theyâre a present.â
Two of the Landis children ran to greet Amanda as she opened the gate and entered the yard.
âIâll lay my parasol by the gate,â she said. âWhereâs your mom?â
âIn the kitchen, canninâ blackberries,â said little Henry.
As Amanda rounded the corner of the house, the two children clinging to her arm, Mrs. Landis came to the kitchen door.
âMother of my knight, I salute you,â said Amanda, making as low a bow as the two barnacle children, the bouquet and the basket with its crock of apple butter, would allow.
âWhat,â laughed Mrs. Landis. âNow what was that you said? The children make so much noise I canât hear sometimes. Henry, donât hang so on Amandaâs arm, itâs too hot.â
âI saidâwhy, I saidâI have some apple butter for you that Mom sent and I picked a bouquet for you,â the child replied, her courage suddenly gone from her.
âNow, ainât that nice! Come right in.â The woman held the screen door open for the visitor.
Mrs. Landis, mother of the imaginary knight and of six other children, was a sturdy, well-built woman, genial and good-natured, as stout people are reputed to be. In spite of hard work she retained a look of youthfulness about her which her plain Mennonite dress and white cap accentuated. An artist with an appreciative eye might have said that the face of that mother was like a composite picture of all the Madonnas of the old mastersâtender, love-lighted yet far-seeing and reverent.
Amanda had always loved Mrs. Landis and spent many hours in her home, attracted by the babyâthere always was one, either in arms or just wobbling about on chubby little legs.
âNow ainât it nice of your mom to send us that new apple butter! And for you to pick the flowers for me! Sattie for both. I say still that the wild flowers beat the ones on the garden beds. And how pretty you fixed them!â
âMom, Mom,â whispered little Henry, âdare I smear me a piece of bread?â
âYes, if you donât make crumbs.â
âOh, Mom,â cried Mary Landis, who came running in from the yard. âWhat dâyou think? Manda left her green parasol out by the front gate and Henryâs chewed the handle off of it!â
âChewed the handle off a parasolâwhatâhow?â said the surprised mother.
Amanda laughed. âBut donât you worry about it, Mrs. Landis,â she said, âfor it was a rhubarb parasol.â
âOh!â A merry laugh followed the announcement about the edible parasol handle and Mrs. Landis went back to spreading thick slices of bread with apple butter while three pairs of eager hands were reaching out to her.
A tiny wail which soon grew in volume sounded from a room in the front of the house.
âThe babyâs awake,â said Amanda. âDare I fetch him?â
âYes. Go right in.â
Amanda went through two rooms and came to a semi-darkened side room where the smallest Landis was putting forth a loud protest at his fancied neglect.
âCome on, Johnny, donât cry no more. Mandaâs goinâ to take youâsee!â She raised the baby, who changed from crying to laughter.
âAinât he dear!â Amanda said as she brought the baby into the kitchen. âAnd so bright he is for not quite six months old. I remember how old he is because it was on my momâs last birthday in March that Millie said you had another baby and I remember, too, that Aunt Rebecca was there and she said, âWhat, them Landisâs got another baby! Poor thing!â I asked Mom why she said that and she thought Aunt Rebecca meant that babies make so much work for you.â
âAch, abody works anyhow, might as well work tendinâ babies. Put your cheek against Johnnyâs face once, Amanda.â
Amanda bent her head and touched the soft cheek of the child. âWhy,â she said, âainât it soft, now! Ainât babies just too dear and sweet! I guess Aunt Rebecca donât know how nice they are.â
âPoor thing,â said Mrs. Landis.
âPoorâshe ainât poor!â Amanda corrected her. âShe owns two farms and got lots of money besides.â
âBut no childrenâpoor thing,â repeated Mrs. Landis.
Amanda looked at her, wondering.
âAmanda,â said the white-capped mother as she wiped some blackberry juice from little Henryâs fingers, âabody can have lots of money and yet be poor, and others can have hardly any money and yet be rich. Itâs all in what abody means by rich and what kind of treasures you set store by. I wouldnât change places with your rich Aunt Rebecca for all the farms in Lancaster County.â
âWell, I guess not!â Amanda could understand her attitude. âAnd Mom and Millie say still you got such nice children. But Martin now,â she said with assumed seriousness as she saw him step on the porch to enter the kitchenââyour Martin pushed me in a bean patch yesterday and I fell down flat on
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