soon encased in thick layers of mud and poked upon the glowing bed
under the kettle.

"Abody'd think none o' you had breakfast," she said sternly.

"Ach," said Mrs. Reist, "these just taste better because they're
wrapped in mud. I used to do that at home when I was little."

"Well, I never did. They'll get burned yet with their foolin' round the
fire."

Her prophecy came perilously close to fulfilment later in the day.
Amanda, bending near the fire to turn a mud-coated apple, drew too
close to the lurking flames. Her gingham dress was ready fuel for the
fire. Suddenly a streak of flame leaped up the hem of it. Aunt Rebecca
screamed. Lyman cried wildly, "Where's some water?" But before Mrs.
Reist could come to the rescue Martin Landis had caught the frightened
child and thrown her flat into a dense bed of bean vines near by,
smothering the flames.

Then he raised her gently. Much handling of his younger sisters and
brothers had made him adept with frightened children.

"Come, Manda," he said soothingly, "you're not hurt. Just your dress is
burned a little."

"My hand--it's burned, I guess," she faltered.

Again force of habit swayed Martin. He bent over and kissed the few red
marks on her fingers as he often kissed the bumped heads and scratched