"Well," she tossed her red head proudly, "I'm glad I'm one!" A sudden
thought came to her--"Come in, Phil, while I fit and then we'll set in
the kitchen and count how often Aunt Rebecca says, My goodness."

"Um-uh," he agreed readily, "come on, Manda. That'll be peachy."

The children laughed in anticipation of a good time as they ran through
the hot sun of the pasture lot, up the narrow path along the cornfield
fence and into the back yard of their home.

The Reist farm with its fine orchards and great fields of grain was
manifestly the home of prosperous, industrious farmers. From its big
gardens were gathered choice vegetables to be sold in the famous
markets of Lancaster, five miles distant. The farmhouse, a big square
brick building of old-fashioned design, was located upon a slight
elevation and commanded from its wide front porch a panoramic view of a
large section of the beautiful Garden Spot of America.

The household consisted of Mrs. Reist, a widow, her two children, her
brother Amos Rohrer, who was responsible for the success of the farm,
and a hired girl, Millie Hess, who had served the household so long and
faithfully that she seemed an integral part of the family.

Mrs. Reist was a sweet-faced, frail little woman, a member of the
Mennonite Church. She wore the plain garb adopted by the women of that
sect--the tight-fitting waist covered by a pointed shoulder cape, the
full skirt and the white cap upon smoothly combed, parted hair. Her
red-haired children were so like their father had been, that at times
her heart contracted at sight of them. His had been a strong, buoyant
spirit and when her hands, like Moses' of old, had required steadying,