to-day when I was fryin' doughnuts she bothered me so that I just
wished the fat would spritz her good once and she'd go and leave me be."

It will be seen that Millie felt free to voice her opinions at all
times in the Reist family. She was a plain-faced, stout little woman of
thirty-five, a product of the Pennsylvania Dutch country. Orphaned at
an early age she had been buffeted about sorely until the happy day she
entered the Reist household. Their kindness to her won her heart and
she repaid them by a staunch devotion. The Reist joys, sorrows,
perplexities and anxieties were shared by her and she naturally came in
for a portion of Aunt Rebecca's faultfinding.

Cross-grained and trying, Rebecca Miller was unlike the majority of the
plain, unpretentious people of that rural community. In all her years
she had failed to appreciate the futility of fuss, the sin of useless
worry, and had never learned the invaluable lesson of minding her own
business. "She means well," Mrs. Reist said in conciliatory tones when
Uncle Amos or the children resented the interference of the dictatorial
relative, but secretly she wondered how Rebecca could be so--so--she
never finished the sentence.

"Well, my goodness, here she comes once!" Amanda heard her aunt's
rasping voice as they entered the house.

Stifling an "Oh yea" the girl walked into the sitting-room.

"Hello, Aunt Rebecca," she said dutifully, then turned to her mother--
"You want me?"

"My goodness, your dress is all wet in the back!" Aunt Rebecca said