"I'll soon get them in. But it's foolishness to go to all that bother
when gathers would do just as good and go faster."

Amanda turned away and a moment later she and Phil were seated on the
long wooden settee in the kitchen. The boy had silently agreed to a
temporary truce so that the game of counting might be played. He would
pay back his sister some other time. Gee, it was easy to get her goat--
just a little thing like a caterpillar dropped down her neck would make
her holler!

"Gee, Manda, I thought of a bully thing!" the boy whispered. "If that
old crosspatch Rebecca says 'My goodness' thirty times till four
o'clock I'll fetch a tobacco worm and put it in her bonnet. If she
don't say it that often you got to put one in. Huh? Manda, ain't that a
peachy game to play?"

"All right," agreed the girl. "I'll get paper and pencil to keep
count." She slipped into the other room and in a few minutes the two
settled themselves on the settee, their ears straining to hear every
word spoken by the women in the next room.

"My goodness, this thread breaks easy! They don't make nothin' no more
like they used to," came through the open door.

"That's one," said Phil; "make a stroke on the paper. Jiminy Christmas,
that's easy! Bet you we get that paper full of strokes!"

"My goodness, that girl's shootin' up! It wouldn't wonder me if you got
to leave these dresses down till time for school. Now if I was you I'd
make them plenty big and let her grow into 'em. Our mom always done