shrilly. "What in the world did you do?"

Before she could reply Philip turned about so his wet clothes were on
view. "And you too!" cried the visitor. "My goodness, what was you two
up to? Such wet blotches like you got!" "We were wadin' in the crick,"
Amanda said demurely, as her mother smoothed the tousled red hair back
from the flushed forehead.

"My goodness! Wadin' in the crick in dog days!" exploded Aunt Rebecca.

"Now for that she'll turn into a doggie, ain't, Mom?" said the boy
roguishly.

Aunt Rebecca looked over her steel-rimmed spectacles at the two
children who were bubbling over with laughter. "I think," she said
sternly, "people don't learn children no manners no more."

"Ach," the mother said soothingly, "you mustn't mind them. They get so
full of laughin' even when we don't see what's to laugh at."

"Yes," put in Amanda, "the Bible says it's good to have a merry heart
and me and Phil's got one. You like us that way, don't you, Mom?"

"Yes," the mother agreed. "Now you go put on dry things, then I want
to fit your dresses. And, Philip, are you wet through?"

"Naw. These thick pants don't get wet through if I rutch in water an
hour. Jiminy pats, Mom, girls are delicate, can't stand a little
wettin'."