"Women's women," he added knowingly. "Some wakes up sooner than others,
that's all! Millie, when you goin' to get you a man? You're gettin'
along now--just about my age, so I know--abody that cooks like you do--
"

"Amos, you just keep quiet! I ain't lookin' for a man. I got a home,
and if I want something to growl at me I'll go pull the dog's tail."

That evening the kitchen of the Reist farmhouse was a busy place.
Baskets of apples stood on the floor. On the table were huge earthen
dishes ready for the pared fruit. Equipped with a paring knife and a
tin pie-plate for parings every member of the household drew near the
table and began snitzing. There was much merry conversation, some in
quaint Pennsylvania Dutch, then again in English tinged with the
distinctive accent. There was also much laughter as Uncle Amos vied
with Millie for the honor of making the thinnest parings.

"Here comes Lyman. Make place for him," cried Amanda as a boy of
fifteen came to the kitchen door.

"You can't come in here unless you work," challenged Uncle Amos.

"I can do that," said the boy, though he seemed none too eager to take
the knife and plate Mrs. Reist offered him.

"You dare sit beside me," Amanda offered.

Lyman smiled his appreciation of the honor, but the girl's eyes
twinkled as she added, "so I can watch that you make thin peelin's."