THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 o-/
 
 The 
 Betrothal of Elypholate
 
 " 'He 'd sooner see me by the table sewin' and makin' good use 
 of my time than wastin' it on them novel books ' "
 
 Elypholate 
 
 artin
 
 e table sewin' ani 
 in' it on theti- imv.
 
 The 
 Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 AND OTHER TALES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH 
 
 By 
 Helen Reimensnyder Martin 
 
 Author of "Tillie: A Mennonite Maid," "Sabina," etc. 
 With Illustrations by 
 
 Charlotte Harding and 
 Alice Barber Stephens 
 
 New York 
 
 The Century Co. 
 
 1907
 
 Copyright 1905, 1907, by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1903, by Cosmopolitan Magazine Co. 
 Copyright, 1903, by Prank Leslie Publishing House 
 Copyright, 1902, 1903, 1906, 1907, by S. S. McClure Co. 
 
 Published October, 1907 
 
 THE DE VINNE PRESS
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE BETROTHAL OF ELYPHOLATE 1 
 
 THE REFORMING OF A BRIDEGROOM 37 
 
 THE CONVERSION OF ELVINY 73 
 
 BLUE'S FURNISHING 99 
 
 MRS. HOLZAPPLE'S CONVICTIONS 125 
 
 THE NARROW ESCAPE OF PERMILLA . 151 
 
 THE COURTING OF PEARLY 193 
 
 THE DISCIPLINING OF MATHIAS . . . 225 
 
 1966509
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATION'S 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ; ' ' He 'd sooner see me by the table sewin' and makin' good 
 use of my time than wastin' it on them novel books ' " 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 " ' She 'd been to Millersville Normal and it got her that 
 proud and Jake's mom wants to say Jake did n't do 
 just so well'" 9 
 
 "His son Jakey heard, with dropped jaw, this un wifely de 
 fiance" 55 
 
 " Poor Elviny would never be contented again, with such a 
 
 load of sin on her conscience " 93 
 
 " ' And that next evening, the sky was redder than ever ' " . 121 
 
 " ' Dan,' Lizzie said with solemn resolution, ' I 'm not givin' 
 
 way fur no earthly ties '" 141 
 
 Christian Lundt learns his value in the matrimonial market 187 
 " Pearly struck up another song " 201 
 
 "A husband like Mathias, who refused to buy for her the 
 
 kitchen utensils which she absolutely required " . . 237
 
 THE BETROTHAL OF 
 ELYPHOLATE
 
 THE BETROTHAL OF 
 ELYPHOLATE 
 
 EE Napoleon Bonaparte, Elypholate Yingst, also, 
 had doubted in his ambitious youth whether it 
 was possible for one with such a name ever to rise to 
 eminence. "Yingst" was sufficiently difficult and 
 unmusical, but "Elypholate" was manifestly im 
 possible. 
 
 Yet, although he always signed himself "E. 
 Yingst," he never, when directly questioned, con 
 cealed the Fact. "Not to deceive you, it 's Elypho 
 late," he would stoically reply. It was the extraor 
 dinary conscience inherited from a race of Mennon- 
 ite ancestors who had suffered persecution and exile 
 for their faith that made it out of the question for 
 him to deviate from the path of strict truthfulness 
 even to so small a degree as to change the name im 
 posed upon him by his parents. 
 
 It was this same extreme conscientiousness which
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 led him, when at the height of his professional success 
 in the city of New York, to ask the radiant woman 
 whom he loved and who loved him, to defer her con 
 sent to marry him until she had visited his parents on 
 their ancestral farm in Lancaster County, Pennsylva 
 nia, and had seen the home of his childhood, the man 
 ner of his rearing and all the rest. She must not give 
 herself to him until she should know all that it is pos 
 sible for any woman to know of any man before her 
 marriage with him. 
 
 It was with truly Spartan courage that he made ar 
 rangements for her to visit "the farm." He was far 
 from sanguine as to the outcome of it. He knew her 
 pride of family, her almost superstitious belief in 
 blood, her ignorance of other conditions of life than 
 those privileged ones in which she had been reared. 
 Would she prove large enough to recognize, beneath 
 the crude conditions which would necessarily seem to 
 her uncouth and repulsive, the real excellence of his 
 inheritance * 
 
 He would never forget her naive astonishment 
 upon hearing from his lips that his parents were 
 plain, uneducated New Mennonites, of Lancaster 
 County. She had met it without flinching, but he 
 was sensitively suspicious that the knowledge had 
 been a stab to her pride and all her inherited 
 prejudices. 
 
 4
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 And when she should discover how entirely ac 
 quired were all his social graces and manners, how 
 (according to her standards) vulgar was the back 
 ground of his life in its boyhood's impressions, would 
 it not repel her from any thought of marriage with 
 him? And could he blame her if it were so he who 
 knew so well the atmosphere of refinement in which 
 she had been always shielded? 
 
 Well, the die was cast now, and he could only wait 
 for the outcome. This afternoon she would arrive at 
 New Canaan and be introduced into his mother's 
 household. 
 
 The incongruity of her in such surroundings smote 
 him. Again he questioned his wisdom in having 
 planned to subject her love to this test. 
 
 "But no. Better discover it now than later, if she 
 is going to despise my origin," was his final conclu 
 sion. 
 
 He had left New York city a day ahead of the date 
 fixed for her departure for New Canaan. There was 
 an important matter which he must discuss with his 
 mother before Laura came to them. All minor de 
 tails as to the appointments of the household, and so 
 forth, he would leave untouched; for Laura must see 
 things at his parents' home as they always were 
 there must be no unaccustomed frills. There was 
 only that one matter that he must emphatically settle 
 
 5
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 with his mother before he introduced her to the girl 
 whom he hoped to marry. 
 
 It was early on the afternoon of her expected ar 
 rival when Doctor Yingst sought his mother to "have 
 it out" with her. 
 
 He found her in the kitchen, rolling out pastry. 
 
 Mrs. Yingst was a well-preserved woman of about 
 sixty years of age. The countenance looking out 
 from her Mennonite white cap was mild and placid. 
 The nervous force manifested in the keen, fine face 
 of the eminent New York physician was evidently 
 not inherited from his New Mennonite mother. 
 
 It was early spring, and the door and windows of 
 the large, clean kitchen were open wide. It was not, 
 however, the sweet country odors of the springtime 
 that were wafted indoors to mingle with those of the 
 stewing fruit on the stove, but it was the nearness of 
 the stables that was (most unpleasantly) manifest. 
 
 "I Ve been to the village, mother," the doctor be 
 gan, seating himself opposite to where she stood work 
 ing at the table. 
 
 "Are you home long a 'ready?" 
 
 "I just came in." 
 
 "What for did you go, seein' you 're got to go in 
 again this after, to fetch out herf" 
 
 "I went on business." 
 
 "What for business was that?"
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 The mother of such a son might well have looked on 
 him with pride, but Mrs. Yingst 's religion forbade 
 such human weakness, and the monotonous placidity 
 of her countenance was quite unmoved as her eyes 
 were from time to time lifted from her paste to the 
 handsome face of her only child. 
 
 "Mother," he earnestly but gently spoke in answer 
 to her inquiry, "you must make up your mind to give 
 up taking your vegetables to the Lancaster city mar 
 ket. I have urged you so often. Now, I must insist 
 upon your stopping it. You are too old to stand for 
 hours twice a week behind those market-stalls. 
 Father is as much opposed to it as I am. If there 
 were the least necessity for it but you know there 
 is n't. "Why do you persist in it, mother?" 
 
 Doctor Yingst was convinced that his mother's sell 
 ing vegetables behind a market-stall, in the city of 
 Lancaster, would be to Laura the final, intolerable 
 straw. 
 
 "I could n't leave the wegetables go to waste," 
 Mrs. Yingst replied, as she deftly lifted a circular 
 layer of paste on her palms and laid it on a pie-pan. 
 "We raise more 'n what we use still." 
 
 "Give away what you don't need. No," he added, 
 seeing, from the slight change in her quiet face, how 
 he had shocked her frugal soul, "I know that is n't 
 practical advice in this neighborhood, where there 
 
 7
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 are no starving poor. Let father sell to the hucksters 
 what you don't use." 
 
 "This long time a 'ready he wants to do that. But 
 the wegetables fetches more on market still. ' ' 
 
 "But, mother," he expostulated, leaning forward 
 across the table, and, in his eagerness, not minding 
 the sprinkling of flour that he was receiving, "can't 
 you realize that when you have a son who earns an 
 income of not less than twenty thousand a year it is a 
 reflection on his filial care for you when you try to 
 earn this poor little pittance twice a week at the mar 
 ket? It is a disgrace to me, mother. I beg you 
 to give it up. Won 't you do this for me ? You know 
 there is nothing on earth 7 would not do for you." 
 
 "The hucksters would give pop only twelve cents 
 a dozen fur eggs, and I can make 'em fetch twenty- 
 five or thirty on market, 'Lypholate." 
 
 He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her, 
 despairingly. 
 
 "I wish I could make you feel, mother, how much 
 depends on this for me. The best happiness of my 
 life!" 
 
 Mrs. Yingst's rolling-pin paused for an instant as 
 she looked at him, evidently with an unexpected flash 
 of insight. 
 
 "Do you mean mebby she," with an indicative 
 twirl of her thumb, "is proud with herself that way, 
 
 8
 
 r 
 
 
 
 6 P
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 and would n't like it so well havin' her man's mom 
 sellin' on market? I heerd of such a 'ready." 
 
 "She would not be able to understand my permit 
 ting you to expose yourself like that, when I am able 
 to give you every comfort and luxury." 
 
 "Is she so wonderful tony, 'Lypholate? To be 
 sure, I knowed you 'd want to marry a way-up young 
 lady. You 're so educated and fash'nable. But, 
 'Lypholate, " she cautioned him, "if she 's so proud 
 with herself that way, mebby she won't make you a 
 good housekeeper. Jake Guttfleisch, he married that 
 Herr girl that lived up the road a piece from New 
 Canaan she 'd been to Millersville Normal, and it 
 got her that proud and Jake's mom, she wants to 
 say Jake did n't do just so well the Herr girl 's 
 such a dopple (awkward person). She won't bake 
 fur him. She gives him baker's bread and canned 
 meat and even canned soups, yet! Now, think! I 
 hope you took notice a 'ready, 'Lypholate, when you 
 was keepin' comp'ny, if your girl 's handy or not, 
 before you ast her. Did you ast her yet?" 
 
 "We are not definitely engaged, mother." 
 
 "But you 're in with her wonderful thick, ain't 
 you are?" 
 
 "Mother, I want to marry Miss Coxe more than I 
 ever wanted anything in this world. Will you or 
 won't you help me to get what I so much want? 
 
 11
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 Won't you stop going to market with your 
 vegetables?" 
 
 "If that would stop her sayin' yes, 'Lypholate, 
 she would n't be the woman fur you, my son," his 
 mother said, with unwonted emphasis. 
 
 The young man felt the force of this. Neverthe 
 less, he persisted. 
 
 "Is my happiness less to you than the few dollars 
 you make every week at market money that you 
 can't spend, but just lay away in a bag?" 
 
 "It would n't be right to waste them wegetablea 
 we can't use ourselves," Mrs. Yingst quietly repeated. 
 
 "Well, then, mother," her son suddenly an 
 nounced, again leaning forward on the table, "you 
 can't go to market to-morrow morning or ever again, 
 for 1 've sold your market-wagon! I took it in to 
 New Canaan after dinner and sold it for ten dollars 
 to Abram Zech. Here 's four times the money," 
 he added, laying two twenty-dollar bills on the table 
 before her. "And I '11 pay you every week five 
 times the sum you would make at market." 
 
 It was by such high-handed measures as this that 
 Doctor Yingst had, all through his boyhood and 
 young manhood, gained his own way in opposition to 
 his mother. Every dollar that had been spent upon 
 his education had been wrung from her by almost 
 brute f oroe. He had always, in his determined strug- 
 
 12
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 gles for an education, been aided and abetted by his 
 father, but his road had not been smooth. Perhaps, 
 however, he was none the worse for that. His mother 
 had never resented his rebellion against her rigid 
 economy. Had he been content to stay at home and 
 help on the farm, he would have been a son more after 
 her own heart; but, deep down in her simple soul, 
 she was proud of her marvelous, though incompre 
 hensible, boy. 
 
 A dumb look of bewilderment was her reception of 
 the amazing, the revolutionary, news that the market- 
 wagon had been sold. She slowly turned her back 
 upon him and carried her pies to the oven. He 
 waited uneasily for her return to the table. 
 
 She came back, after a moment, and stood with her fat 
 palms spread out on the dough-board. ' ' If the market- 
 wagon 's solt, I '11 have to take the buggy, then. It 
 ain 't so handy to get the things in as what the market- 
 wagon was still. But I guess I can make it suit." 
 
 He stared at her for an instant; a flash came into 
 his eyes; his lips twitched, and, suddenly, he bent 
 back his head and roared with laughter. 
 
 "What d' you see so funny yet?" his mother won- 
 deringly asked, beginning to gather up the dishes, 
 spoons and knives she had used in the baking. 
 
 "If I sell your buggy, too, mother, how will you 
 manage?" 
 
 13
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "Then I 'd have to walk them four miles and carry 
 a big basket. Or borry the loan of a wagon off of 
 Jake Guttfleisch's. And how would I get to meetin' 
 still without no buggy?" 
 
 "There," he reassured her, "I won't sell the 
 buggy. I see," he said, with a sigh of resignation, 
 "that you must do as you please and live your own 
 life in your own way, mother. ' ' 
 
 He drew a long breath as he rose from the table. 
 Taking out his watch, he compared it with the clock 
 on the mantel over the stove. "Two hours before I 
 must start for the train, ' ' he restlessly said. 
 
 He shook the flour from his sleeves and picked up 
 his hat from a chair. 
 
 "I guess I '11 go out to the field and visit with 
 father until train time." 
 
 n 
 
 BY an unexpected chance, Miss Laura Coxe was able, 
 on her way from New York city to Lancaster, to make 
 such close connections at Philadelphia that she 
 reached the village of New Canaan two hours earlier 
 than Doctor Yingst expected her, and, consequently, 
 she was obliged to find her own way from the little 
 station to the Yingst farm, a mile distant. 
 
 H
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 Eager as the young girl was to see her lover, she, 
 nevertheless, looked upon this contingency as a rather 
 diverting adventure, and, as it was a clear, beautiful, 
 spring day, she started out on her walk with keenest 
 pleasure. 
 
 The ticket-agent at the little station had told her in 
 which direction to go. But when she had walked the 
 half-mile from the village, on the country highroad, 
 she found herself obliged, at the joining of three 
 roads, to inquire again the way to the Yingst farm. 
 
 The farm-house at which she stopped to ask for in 
 formation was a respectable red-brick edifice, built 
 with a strict avoidance of any hint of grace or art. It 
 was set back a few yards from the road, and had it 
 not been for the neat, weedless flower beds in front of 
 it, Miss Coxe would have supposed it to be unoccu 
 pied, for every shutter was tightly closed, and there 
 was not a sign of life about the place. 
 
 Her knock upon one of the two front doors (a great 
 many Lancaster County farm-houses are built with 
 two identically similar front doors, side by side) 
 brought a big dog, bounding and barking, to the 
 porch where she waited. She felt rather alarmed at 
 the vehemence of this canine greeting, but relief 
 quickly appeared in the form of a stout, middle-aged 
 woman and a small boy, coming quickly from around 
 the side of the house, the latter calling the dog from 
 
 15
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 the stranger, and the former scolding the child for 
 having "tied the dog loose" (untied the dog). 
 
 "Your pop tole you you 're not to tie her loose 
 these dog-days!" the boy was admonished. "Now, 
 you '11 see what you '11 mebby get oncet when pop 
 comes in then ! Take her around back now and make 
 her tight!" 
 
 She turned to the young lady on the porch as she 
 wiped her wet, soapy hands on her gingham apron. 
 
 A wide-eyed curiosity looked out from the woman 's 
 quaint, white, Mennonite cap, as her gaze rested upon 
 the unaccustomed vision on her door-step, of the fair- 
 haired, blue-eyed girl in her white-lined raglan and 
 pretty spring hat of dark-blue straw. 
 
 "Good-morning," Miss Coxe bowed. "Will you 
 please tell me how to get to Mr. Yingst's farm?" 
 
 "Yingst's farm?" the woman repeated. "Which 
 fur Yingst is it you 're after 7 New Canaan 's got so 
 many Yingsts. It 's a name where 's familiar here. 
 Do you mean mebbe Hiram? Or is it Ephraim's? 
 Or Ezra's?" 
 
 "Mr. Hiram Yingst." 
 
 "Oh, him. Well, his place is up this here road a 
 piece ; about a half a mile yet. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Straight up this road ? I make no turns ? ' ' 
 
 "No. You go up this way, and if you see a red 
 barn, there 's Yingst's. Are you goin' to Yingst's?" 
 
 16
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "Yes. Thank you very much." 
 
 "Ach, that 's all right! So you 're goin' to 
 Yingst's?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Do you want to hire, or what?" 
 
 "Hire?" 
 
 "Yes. Hire. Because if you do, I could easy get 
 you a good place." 
 
 "No," said Miss Coxe, her smile illuming her bright 
 face, "I am going visiting." 
 
 "Oh, wisitin'. Are you from town, or wherever?" 
 the woman curiously inquired. 
 
 "Yes from New York." 
 
 "Oh, from there," she nodded. "That 's a long 
 ways to come, ain't?" 
 
 "It 's several hours' ride." 
 
 "Hiram Yingst's son, he lives in New York this 
 long time a 'ready. Mebbe you know him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I took notice he 's home these last couple days. 
 Is it to see him you 're wisitin' down here?" 
 
 "Oh, no," smiled Miss Coxe, stepping off the 
 porch, and recovering from her interest in what 
 seemed to her the phenomenal frankness of the 
 woman's investigation of her. 
 
 "It 's some dusty walkin', ain't?" 
 
 "A little, yes; But I am enjoying the walk." 
 
 17
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "I think we '11 mebbe have fallin' weather it feels 
 so fur rain, fur all it 's clear yet." 
 
 ' ' Yes ? I thank you very much. Good-by. ' ' 
 
 ' * That 's all right. Good-by. ' ' 
 
 As Miss Coxe walked buoyantly on down the pike, 
 she laughed gleefully to herself as she thought how 
 she should enjoy telling her lover of her amusing 
 talk with the odd, fat little woman. 
 
 "That she should offer to get me 'a good place!' 
 How he will laugh ! How interested he would be if 
 he ever happened to meet her in her queer language ! 
 I wonder if he ever ran across her on his trips down 
 here. Her dialect is not like any I have ever heard. 
 'Yingst's son, he a 'ready lives yet in New York, 
 ain't?' something like that! Oh, he will be so en 
 tertained!" 
 
 Ill 
 
 "Is Mrs. Yingst at home?" 
 
 "Yes, I 'mher." 
 
 The two women looked into each other's eyes as 
 they clasped hands. 
 
 "You 're 'Lypholate's girl, I guess, ain't? We 
 was n't lookin' fur you till five o'clock." 
 
 "I am Miss Coxe." 
 
 18
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "I 'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Just 
 walk in oncet." 
 
 With a bewildered look in her pretty eyes, Miss 
 Coxe stepped into the close, stuffy, darkened, front 
 room of the plain, brick farm-house. When Mrs. 
 Yingst closed the front door upon the sunlight, they 
 were left in almost total blackness. 
 
 "I '11 make the shutters open a little," the hostess 
 hospitably said, and Miss Coxe, afraid to move in the 
 midday midnight, stood in the middle of the floor and 
 waited for a ray of light. The odor of the close, un 
 used room was sickening. 
 
 She was struck with the fact that this woman who 
 had answered her knock at the door was dressed ex 
 actly like the one at whose home she had asked to be 
 directed to Mr. Yingst 's farm. She wore the same 
 sort of white cap, plain black gown and three-cor 
 nered cape. It must be the garb of the puritanic 
 faith to which "the doctor" had told her his mother 
 was such a faithful adherent. 
 
 "We keep this room shut still, except only when 
 we 're getting strangers," remarked Mrs. Yingst, as 
 she admitted an economical bit of light through the 
 shutters. 
 
 She came from the window to the girl's side and 
 pushed forward a large, painted, wooden rocking- 
 chair. 
 
 19
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "Set down and rest yourself," she said, in her 
 quiet, monotonous voice. "It '11 spite 'Lypholate 
 that you had to walk out. He was goin' to fetch you 
 till five o'clock. Did you get here sooner than you 
 thought fur, or what?" 
 
 "Yes, I made closer connections at Philadelphia 
 than the doctor or I had supposed could be made. ' ' 
 
 ' ' 'Lypholate 's out in the field with his pop. ' ' 
 
 "His what?" tentatively asked Miss Coxe, sink 
 ing into the rocking-chair as Mrs. Yingst sat down in 
 another chair just like it. 
 
 "His pop. He '11 come in then till he thinks it 's 
 time to go fur the train and he will now be that sur 
 prised to see you settin' here. It won't go long any 
 more till he 's home. Just spare your coat and 
 hat." 
 
 Miss Coxe slipped out of her raglan and laid her 
 hat on the marble-topped table, her quick eye noting, 
 meanwhile, the neatness, the stiff order, the primitive 
 furnishings of the room. There were no pictures on 
 the white-washed walls, and no ornaments of any de 
 scription in the room just the plain articles of fur 
 niture absolutely essential for use. 
 
 " 'Lypholate tole me how you 're so tony," Mrs. 
 Yingst said, gently rocking back and forth as she 
 gazed with her unvarying placidity of countenance 
 upon the girl before her. "So, I guess we '11 seem 
 
 20
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 some plain to you. But us Mennonites don't hold to 
 fash'nable things. We live very plain that way. I 
 tole 'Lypholate, 'We can't accommodate her to satis 
 faction, ' I says, when he said now he 's f etchin ' you to 
 see us once. 'Not to satisfaction,' I says. You know, 
 it goes like this: us, we don't care for style, only 
 cleanness. ' ' 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Did it mebbe make you some warm walkin'? 
 I '11 leave you use my fan." 
 
 She took from the table-drawer a roll of white tis 
 sue-paper in which, it presently appeared, a black 
 paper fan was carefully preserved. 
 
 "Here, one day last summer, I nearly lost my fan 
 now think!" Mrs. Yingst's even tones related as 
 she spread open the treasure and handed it to her 
 guest. "I got it for such a prize with a box of soap. 
 I had it now it will be this five years back a 'ready till 
 next summer. I was always careful with it. Yes, 
 one day last summer, I nearly lost it yet ! ' ' 
 
 Miss Coxe examined the fan curiously. She could 
 discover nothing about it which explained its being so 
 carefully guarded and treasured. It appeared to be 
 worth about ten cents. Having come with a box of 
 soap, the possibility was precluded of there being any 
 sentiment associated with it. She was mystified. 
 Her long walk had made her warm and tired, and she 
 
 21
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 began to wonder whether she were really awake or 
 whether she was dreaming all these weird, strange 
 impressions of things that seemed to Be passing be 
 fore her. 
 
 "I say!" Mrs. Yingst abruptly remarked, in a deep 
 voice that had in it a touch of the tragic. "There 's 
 the fly!" 
 
 Her eyes were fixed, with a stony stare, upon the 
 high back of Miss Coxe's rocking-chair. "Set still 
 till I see once if I can ketch it ! " She rose cautiously, 
 but a look of profound disappointment came into her 
 face, and she sighed as she sat down again. 
 
 "Me and pop 's tried now fur a week back to ketch 
 the fly. It must have been the day I cleaned up fur 
 'Lypholate's comin' home yet that it somehow got in. 
 We ain't never been able to ketch it. Such things 
 spites a body, ain't?" 
 
 "But are you sure it 's the same fly?" Miss Coxe 
 wonderingly asked. 
 
 "It could n't be no other, fur only one got in." 
 
 "If you don't use this room," Miss Coxe reasoned 
 with her, "why do you care?" 
 
 "I can't sleep good still when I know there 's a fly 
 in the house," Mrs. Yingst sighed, as she resignedly 
 sank back again in her chair. She rocked slowly as 
 she amiably regarded her guest. 
 
 " Tiypholate ain't spoke just so much to me about 
 
 22
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 you except he said you was so tony. What does your 
 pop follow?" 
 
 "Follow?" Miss Coxe asked, a puzzled distress in 
 her childish eyes. "What is his business, do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "Yes. I mean what does he carry on." 
 
 ' ' He is a retired physician. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Now think ! Like 'Lypholate, ain 't t " 
 
 "Yes only, he is retired now. He is an old man. 
 I am the youngest of nine children. ' ' 
 
 "You mean he don't carry on nothin' now?" 
 
 "Yes. He is too old to work." 
 
 "I take notice you don't speak your words like 
 what we speak our'n. You speak so funny that way! 
 Like what 'Lypholate learned himself to speak till 
 he 'd been away to school a couple years. 'Lypholate 
 don't talk like his tongue grew to talk." 
 
 A fat, lazy cat had wandered into the room and 
 was rubbing its arched back against the folds of the 
 girl's skirts. Miss Coxe suddenly bent low and 
 stroked the animal's thick fur. Mrs. Yingst noticed 
 that her face grew crimson as she stooped. 
 
 "That 's not for us to do like what you 're doin' 
 to make a fuss with the cat still." 
 
 Miss Coxe sat up again and laughed a little, help 
 less laugh that somehow struck Mrs. Yingst with a 
 vague sense of pathos. 
 
 23
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "Are you mebbe hungry for a piece?" 
 
 "A piece of what?" 
 
 "Oh, well, just a piece. Mebby some butter-bread? 
 We 've havin' supper till five o'clock." 
 
 "I '11 have a drink of water if you please. ' ' 
 
 "I '11 go get it." 
 
 She left the room, and, after a moment, came back 
 with a thick glass goblet. 
 
 "You must excuse me if I call you Laura. Ain't 
 you will?" she asked. "It ain't for us New Men- 
 nonites to pay compliments and call folks Miss, or 
 Missus, or whatever. We don't favor titles. You 
 know we read: 'Call no man Master'; and we try to 
 obey to the Scripture. Are you Bible-read?" 
 
 The question was disconcerting. 
 
 "Well," smiled the girl, "I 'm not ready to take 
 a chair of Biblical exegesis in a theological sem 
 inary!" 
 
 Mrs. Yingst stared uncomprehendingly. "Them 
 big words come easy to you, ain't it? With 'Lypho- 
 late, too," she nodded. "Would you like to look at 
 'Lypholate 's pictures ? ' ' 
 
 She took a photograph album from the table and, 
 drawing her chair to Miss Coxe's side, she spread it 
 open on her own ample lap. With a quiet compla 
 cency, but with no apparent pride, she turned the 
 pages to display the succession of photographs of her 
 
 2-4
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 son, taken from boyhood up to manhood. The girl 
 studied them with fascinated interest. 
 
 ' ' Here 's one he had took with his pop, ' ' the mother 
 said, showing the portrait of a stiffly posed farmer of 
 middle age, with his arm bent at the elbow to a sharp 
 right angle and his hand spread heavily on a small 
 boy's shoulder, as though in the act of arresting him 
 for a misdemeanor against the law. "Pop was al 
 ways so much for havin' 'Lypholate's picture took." 
 
 "The doctor looks like his father, does n't he?" 
 Miss Coxe said, as she bent over the photograph. 
 
 "Yes. Him and 'Lypholate favors each other 
 somethin' surprisin'. He always took after his pop 
 more 'n after me." 
 
 "Did n't you ever have your picture taken with 
 'Lyph the doctor?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I give myself up to the Lord, and turned 
 plain, before 'Lypholate was born a 'ready; and us 
 New Mennonites don't have our pictures took, because 
 you can read in the Word: 'Make no graven images.' 
 That 's why 'Lypholate's pop, he would n't give him 
 self up he liked so well to fetch 'Lypholate to town 
 to have his photograph took. Pop was always so 
 much fur his boy that way. I used to think 'Lypho 
 late would n't never be no account, his pop made so 
 much fuss with him. ' ' 
 
 "But he has been of some account, has n't he?
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 You must be very proud of him, ' ' the girl suggested, 
 looking up into the mother's mild eyes with fire in 
 her own. 
 
 "Pride ain't fur us. We 're loosed of all earthly 
 ties, and joined to Christ. But," she added, " 'Ly- 
 pholate 's a good son, fur all he b 'longs to the world. 
 He was always so much fur his books," she began, 
 reminiscently, leaning back in her chair, with her 
 hands folded over the open album in her lap. "When 
 he come sixteen years, he would n't have it no other 
 way but he must go to Millersville Normal. ' 'Ly- 
 pholate, it ain't worth while,' I tole him. 'You kin 
 read good enough a 'ready. You don't need no more 
 education.' But his pop, he upheld to what 'Lypho- 
 late wanted, so he went and gradyated at Millersville 
 Normal. Well, I thought certainly that was enough ! 
 No. 'Lypholate, then, he wanted to go to college! 
 And then he gradyated at college yet! Now, think! 
 Indeed, I never thought he 'd go so fur 's that. It 's 
 too much." She shook her head. "It ain't healthy 
 fur any one to have too much education. It goes to 
 their heads. It showed on 'Lypholate when he was 
 only a little feller yet. He was always so much fur 
 settin' by hisself and thinkin'. And he was now such 
 a boy fur lookin' at the clouds, 'specially when they 
 was red in the evenin'. I used to try, still, to get him 
 away from such ways, thinkin ' it was the pride of the 
 eye. Oh, to be sure," she granted, "sometimes a 
 
 26
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 body kin see somepin' funny in the sky that 's pretty, 
 but I think them things is a temptation of the enemy 
 of our souls to lead us away from Christ." 
 
 Upon this novel view of the beauties of nature, Miss 
 Coxe had no comment to make. Instead, she drew 
 the mother back to her son. "You say the doctor was 
 always a good son to you?" 
 
 "Yes, 'ceptin' that he was always in for havin' his 
 own way ; and he 'd get it, somehow or nother. But 
 he 's a good son. Oh, yes. Well, to be sure, some 
 times he bothers me some. He wants to spend his 
 money on me and pop; and us, we won't leave him. 
 He 'd buy us anything he conceited we wanted, and 
 if it cost a hundred dollars yet! Now, think! Oh, 
 'Lypholate ain't near that way with his money! He 
 was always fond of his mom and pop. He 'd pay fur 
 hired help fur me if I 'd leave him. But I like to do 
 my own servin'." 
 
 "I was sure he must be a good son," Miss Coxe 
 softly said, her eyes downcast. "With all his power, 
 he is so tender!" 
 
 "You think a wonderful sight of him, ain't?" said 
 Elypholate 's mother. 
 
 "Yes I think very highly of him," Miss Coxe re 
 plied, with propriety. 
 
 At this instant, the sound of steps in a room beyond 
 Arrested them. 
 
 "That 's 'Lypholate and pop," said Mrs. Yingst,
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 rising. "I '11 go tell 'em you 're here. They kin 
 set with you till I make supper." 
 
 Replacing her rocking-chair in the corner from 
 which she had taken it, she went to the door, but 
 turned, with her hand on the latch. "I 'm makin' 
 fried paunhaus for supper. It won't take long till 
 it 's cooked a 'ready," she reassuringly said. 
 
 She opened and closed the door cautiously, to ex 
 clude the admission of % a possible fly. 
 
 It vaguely crossed Miss Coxe's dizzy brain as, pal 
 pitating, she awaited the doctor's coming, that it was 
 well she had taken a luncheon in the dining-car on 
 her way from Philadelphia, as, having thus staved 
 off starvation, she would not be driven to tempt Prov 
 idence by tampering with such unknown form of diet 
 as " fried paunhaus." 
 
 IV 
 
 THE doctor had scarcely time to make an extremely 
 hasty toilet, greet Miss Coxe in the parlor, and pre 
 sent his white-haired father, when Mrs. Yingst ap 
 peared to announce that supper was "made." 
 
 The table, laid in the spotlessly clean kitchen, was 
 crowded with many and various little dishes, most of 
 which were, to Miss Coxe's inexperience, dark mys 
 teries. Mrs. Yingst was hospitably honoring the oc- 
 
 28
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 casion by using her best plated silver and her finest 
 ten-cent store-glass and china; and at Laura's and 
 the doctor's plates were napkins. 
 
 The doctor's venerable father wore no coat, and 
 Mrs. Yingst, before taking her place at the table, did 
 not deem it essential to put down her rolled-up 
 sleeves. 
 
 "I conceited I 'd better mebbe give you a napkin 
 'Lypholate 's often tole me city people 's used to 
 havin' 'em every day," Mrs. Yingst remarked, after 
 the long, silent "grace." " 'Lypholate, when he 's 
 home, he now won 't eat, yet, till I get him a napkin ! ' ' 
 
 In Laura's soul there was an agony of embarrass 
 ment. Nothing which her fastidious lover had told 
 her of his home had prepared her for just such unique 
 conditions as these. Yet it was characteristic of her 
 that her outward composure should be in exact pro 
 portion to her inward agitation. She would not have 
 taken the trouble to conceal a merely slight confusion, 
 but such internal chaos as at present possessed her 
 called for self-control and tact, and, summoning to 
 her aid as much of these as she could command, she 
 managed to assume a manner of matter-of-fact accept 
 ance of everything about her, except where the be 
 trayal of surprise could not possibly offend. 
 
 The doctor's manner helped her. Apparently, he 
 was composedly indifferent to his parents' idiosyn- 
 
 29
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 crasies, and his attitude toward herself was unwont- 
 edly grave and reserved. Had he manifested ner 
 vousness or embarrassment, the ordeal would have 
 been too painful to her. 
 
 "I like a napkin, myself, when we 're got gravy," 
 old Mr. Yingst remarked, as he helped himself to a 
 large piece of the black paunhaus and then pushed 
 the platter along to Laura. 
 
 The doctor at her side helped her to a small slice of 
 it. "You 've never tasted it, and you probably won't 
 like it. It 's pork. But," he added, putting a gen 
 erous slice on his mother's plate, and another on his 
 own, "you 've no idea how fraught with sentiment 
 and poetry all these Lancaster County Dutch dishes 
 are to me! Now, here 's scalded cheese," he said, 
 pointing out what looked like a large, flat cake of yel 
 low putty. "And 'smear-case,' " indicating a glass 
 dish, filled with what appeared to be slaked lime. 
 "As for these 'snits,' " he said, proceeding to put 
 into a sauce dish a spoonful of stewed dried apples, 
 "my feelings at sight of them, after a long absence, 
 almost render me lacrymose." 
 
 "Mebbe you favor apple-butter?" Mrs. Yingst sug 
 gested, pushing forward another glass dish, which 
 contained a dark-colored concoction that resembled 
 black apple sauce; "or, would you mebbe like currant 
 jelly fur your spreadin's?" 
 
 30
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "I 'm going to taste the 'apple-butter,' " Laura 
 gaily declared. ''The unknown has ever a morbid 
 charm for me! And the name 'apple-butter' is al 
 luring. Now, Doctor Yingst, how much of this does 
 one take? And how is it eaten? With a spoon?" 
 
 "It 's spreadin's!" in astonishment explained Mrs. 
 Yingst. "To spread on your butter-Bread. Now, 
 you don't want to say you never eat it yet?" she in 
 credulously asked. 
 
 "I never saw or heard of it before," Laura laughed, 
 "and I am delighted to make its acquaintance." 
 
 "We 're great friends to apple-butter," said the 
 old man, speaking with his mouth full of hot paun- 
 haus. "Our apples, we pick 'em hard so 's they don't 
 rot on us. It seems queer to think you ain't never 
 tasted apple-butter! But I know they got awful 
 funny ways in New York. Well," he added, watch 
 ing her as she tasted the apple-butter, "how does it 
 go?" 
 
 "I never tasted anything more delicious," she en 
 thusiastically answered. 
 
 When supper was over, Laura, seeing that there 
 was no servant in the house, insisted, in spite of the 
 doctor's protest, upon helping her hostess to clear off 
 the table and wipe the dishes work to which she 
 lent such an unaccustomed and unskilful hand that 
 Mrs. Yingst privately warned the doctor next day: 
 
 31
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 "You 'd better look furder, 'Lypholate; she 'd never 
 make you a good housekeeper. Oh, in some ways, 
 she 's as nice a young lady as she otherwise could be, 
 but you could do a sight better, 'Lypholate she 's so 
 wonderful doplig ! To be sure, fur a city-raised girl, 
 she 's that nice and common I would n 't have believed 
 it. It don't show at her that she 's so tony, she makes 
 herself so common with me and pop. But I think, 
 fur all, you 'd letter tell her you '11 look a little bit 
 around first before you make up your mind. She 's 
 too dumb (stupid) to get married." 
 
 But, as will be seen, the warning came too late. 
 
 By the time "the supper work" was finished, Laura 
 had begun to look very weary from her day's travel 
 and excitement. 
 
 "You are tired," the doctor gravely told her as she 
 took off her gingham apron. "You must go to bed, 
 Laura." 
 
 She was aware of a note in his voice that she had 
 never heard before and that she did not understand. 
 "Will you show Miss Coxe to her room, mother?" 
 
 "To be sure, if she feels fur goin' to bed. Can 
 you sleep cold?" she inquired of her guest. 
 
 Laura looked unintelligent, but the doctor came to 
 her assistance. "Mother means do you require a 
 fire in your room. In the apartment traditionally 
 known as 'the spare room,' in this house, there is a 
 
 32
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 stove, and a fire can be lighted in a minute if you 
 want it." 
 
 "No, thank you. It is n't cold enough to make 
 that necessary. I am a bit tired. Yes, I think I 
 should like to go to bed." 
 
 "I put a towel and water-pitcher in your room," 
 Mrs. Yingst said; " 'Lypholate, he says you 're like 
 what he 's got to be, too you would want to wash in 
 your room, and not at the pump like what we do. ' ' 
 
 "Thank you," said Laura, vaguely. 
 
 She bade the doctor and his father good-night ; and 
 then she followed Mrs. Yingst up-stairs. 
 
 Doctor Yingst put on his hat and went outdoors. 
 
 Slowly pacing the board walk in the moonlight, he 
 drew in a long, deep breath, and his lips tightened 
 over his teeth. 
 
 "It 's all up, of course!" he grimly told himself. 
 ' ' I see it all with her eyes now and from her point of 
 view. Her prejudices will never let her marry me !" 
 
 HE had been strolling about in the moonlight, over 
 the lawn, among the flower beds, and even down by 
 the vegetable garden, when suddenly he was startled 
 by an apparition in the path before him the ghost
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 as for a moment he verily believed of his fair 
 lady. 
 
 The sound of her voice scarcely reassured him, so 
 wraith-like appeared her pale face and bright eyes in 
 the light of the garden. 
 
 "I saw you from my window and I found I was 
 not sleepy after all and the night is so beautiful I 
 thought I would come down to you. ' ' 
 
 He looked down into her eyes upraised to his as she 
 stood before him in the path. 
 
 What was it, he asked himself, that he read in 
 them? Something which made the hot blood surge 
 up to his temples and beat there. 
 
 He ventured to take her two hands in his own and 
 clasp them. "Laura! Is your love for me, then, so 
 strong and so true?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" she whispered as, yielding her 
 hands to his clasp, she leaned against him, "I have no 
 language to express my pride in you that just by 
 your own power unaided, and against every adverse 
 condition you have made yourself what you are ! ' ' 
 
 "Is that the way you look at it, Laura?" 
 
 "How else could I look at it?" 
 
 "Your family pride, my darling your own rear 
 ing in a cultured home your prejudices your very 
 instincts" 
 
 "Yes I have all these limitations, I acknowledge 
 
 34
 
 The Betrothal of Elypholate 
 
 it. But, somehow, they are not troubling me to-night. 
 I can't make myself feel them. What fills all my 
 heart is the thought of how great has been your faith 
 in me, that you have so frankly challenged my love 
 by bringing me face to face with what you knew those 
 of my world would be tempted to despise." 
 
 "And you do not despise it?" 
 
 "Dear," she said, drawing her hands from his 
 clasp and laying them on his shoulders, "believe me, 
 the happiness you and I have hoped for is not men 
 aced by anything I have learned this day. Only 
 by-" 
 
 ' ' Laura ! By what ? Tell me, dearest ! ' ' 
 
 "By any least approach on your part to an un 
 worthy shame for these simple, genuine people who 
 love you so much and who have given you to the 
 world and to me!"
 
 THE REFORMING OF 
 A BRIDEGROOM
 
 THE REFORMING OF 
 A BRIDEGROOM 
 
 EVINA'S most conspicuous characteristic was an 
 overpowering and quite uncurbed propensity to 
 set people right whom she considered to be in the 
 wrong. Her youngest and prettiest sister, who had 
 recently become Mrs. Gideon Lapp, was just at pres 
 ent in need of her attention. Mrs. Gideon was pur 
 suing a course which must ultimately lead to her un 
 doing, and Lavina was bent upon heading her off. 
 
 "She 's getting her mister that spoilt with her 
 yielding ways if I don't go over there this Easter 
 vacation and learn her teach her, ' ' she corrected her 
 English, "the way she had ought to train that Giddy 
 Lapp, she '11 be so set in her weak ways with him and 
 he '11 be so used to walking all over her (like all the 
 other Dutch in these parts walk over their females) 
 it '11 be too late to mend." 
 
 This was Lavina 's conclusion after the third letter 
 received from Mrs. Gideon since her marriage to the 
 widower, Gideon Lapp. Not that Mrs. Gideon com- 
 
 39
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 plained of her Giddy." On the contrary, she 
 praised him in her letters as "a good purvider" and 
 "a wonderful steady man." But in almost every 
 line that she wrote she unconsciously Betrayed to La- 
 vina his sore need of wifely discipline. 
 
 "I ain't been on compny," she wrote her sister, 
 "but except once since me and Giddy was married 
 aready. Giddy he ain't much for goin. When he 
 has his supper eat he likes to set at home, still, even 
 ings, and read his paper. He won't do it to go even 
 Sundays. Last Sunday me and him have been on 
 church the first time since we was married aready. 
 
 "Giddy 's so sneaky (choicy) about his wittles, I 
 get all up-mixed makin his meals to suit him he 's that 
 partikkeller. That novel book you sent I did n't get 
 read all. Giddy he don't favor novel readin' and 
 when he 's setting readin' his noospaper evenings, still, 
 he says he 'd sooner see me by the table sewin and 
 makin good use of my time than wastin it on them 
 novel books. So you best not send me no more of 
 them novels Lavina fur all Ide like wonderful well to 
 read through that there novel you sent me entitled 
 Deserted at the Alter. That there villain in it 
 was n't he something fierce. The things he done yet! 
 Why Lavina he was the worst man I ever seen before. 
 But Giddy he don't want fur me to finish it 
 through." 
 
 40
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 ' ' To think, ' ' Lavina had exclaimed on reading this, 
 "that she 'd take that off of him! Him sitting there 
 reading his paper, and Katy she has n't the dare to 
 waste her time reading a novel (with a good moral to 
 it, too) but has to sew till bedtime! I 'd teach him 
 once! I 'd tell him if I could n't read my novel he 
 had n't the dare to read his noospaper, which is full 
 of false lies, anyhow, and corrupting to the morals! 
 If he 'd give up his paper I 'd give up my novels. 
 Not unlest." 
 
 The letter containing this most disturbing of all 
 Katy's revelations as to her submission to conjugal 
 tyranny had reached Lavina on an evening when her 
 perturbation over it was aggravated by the fact that 
 the day had been a very unsatisfactory one in her 
 school-room; for Lavina was the "up-stairs teacher" 
 in a village school of Upper Leacock Township in 
 Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. 
 
 "As a success I 'm a failure," she told herself se 
 verely when, after she had given an ' ' Object Lesson ' ' 
 to show her geography class what a volcano was, the 
 class, subsequently asked to define a volcano, had, to 
 a man, answered that a volcano was a pile of sand 
 with a shooting cracker stuck in the top; and when 
 asked to write an account of how the mountains were 
 formed, Sophie Schnabel had briefly inscribed her 
 answer, "By God's almighty power." Lavina did 
 
 41
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 not know how to mark such an answer as that. It 
 could n't be called incorrect. Yet it certainly was 
 not scientific, nor would it pass in an examination. 
 The question "Describe how savage people dress," 
 had brought the inadequate answer, "How they 
 dress they don't dress; only except a string of 
 beads around the neck." 
 
 Such a day in school had so intensified her sense of 
 Gideon Lapp 's need of marital discipline that before 
 she slept that night she firmly resolved to spend the 
 approaching Easter holiday at Katy's, in order to set 
 her right in the management of her husband. 
 
 Lavina was the emancipated member of her family. 
 Her two younger sisters and one younger brother had 
 all submitted without question to the characteristic 
 Pennsylvania Dutch parental authority which had 
 condemned them to a life of drudgery on the farm, 
 the most rigid economy, and scant schooling. Her 
 father was well-to-do, and his refusal to allow her 
 more education than the district school afforded had 
 led to her rebelliously leaving home and "hiring out" 
 in order to earn the necessary money for a term at 
 ' ' the Normal. ' ' The ' ' hired girl ' ' among the farmers ' 
 families of her acquaintance was a person of distinc 
 tion in the household, so Lavina was not at all pre 
 pared for the sort of behavior expected of her by the 
 fastidious town family by whom she was engaged as 
 
 42
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 dining-room girl. She came near to being discharged 
 the very first time she waited on the table, when, as 
 she stood behind her mistress's chair, silver tray in 
 hand, one of the young daughters of the family made 
 a remark about her geography lesson of that day, a 
 lesson on glaciers, and Lavina, her sense of the duty 
 of the moment overcoming her country shyness, sud 
 denly lifted up her voice and delivered herself, over 
 the head of her mistress, of a volley of district school- 
 book information on glaciers, to the consternation of 
 the family. 
 
 The lessons she received from this family in 
 "learning her place" were a shock to all her public 
 school ideas of American equality. But her experi 
 ences with city gentlefolk revealed to her, by force of 
 contrast, what her mind was ripened for perceiving 
 the uncivilized life led by many Pennsylvania Dutch 
 women; their inhuman drudgery; their subservience 
 to masculine authority ; their dreary lack of pleasure 
 and diversion, and their sordid economy; and from 
 her domestic apprenticeship in the city, she came back 
 to her own people a reformer. Ever since that time, 
 through all her experiences as a student at the Nor 
 mal school and as village school-teacher, she had peri 
 odically swooped down upon one of her sisters or cou 
 sins with the fell purpose of putting them to rights 
 where she saw they needed it. 
 
 43
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 II 
 
 "Ip Giddy come home unexpected and seen us settin' 
 in here!" Lavina 's sister laughed nervously, as, 
 after opening the front-room shutters just enough to 
 admit a faint ray of light (not enough to fade her 
 best ingrain carpet), she sat down carefully on her 
 elegant "stuffed" red plush rocking-chair, while La- 
 vina, with an air of resolution, seated herself on the 
 equally elegant and also stuffed sofa. 
 
 "Well? What if?" Lavina demanded. "What 's 
 a parlor for? To shut up dark and never use any? 
 Is that what you furnished for? Who paid for your 
 furniture, anyhow? Gideon Lapp? No! Pop, to be 
 sure. Then what right has Gideon Lapp to say you 
 have n't the dare to use your parlor when you want? 
 Every day if it suits you to ! " 
 
 "He 'd say the carpet would get some fadey fur 
 me. And the stuffed furniture so pressed down." 
 
 "Well, what 's carpet and furniture for?" Lavina 
 reasoned, patiently. "7s it made to use or ain't it? 
 I ain't sitting in your kitchen, Katy Lapp ! I 'm used 
 to better ways, and when I 'm with you, you 're goin' 
 to have better ways, too. That long anyhow till I 
 go again. It '11 maybe do you good." 
 
 "But you '11 set with me and Giddy out in the 
 
 44
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 kitchen, evenings, so long as you 're here; ain't, 
 Laviny?" Katy anxiously inquired. "Giddy, he 
 won't do it to set in here in the parlor! He won't 
 can home hisself in here!" 
 
 "Then leave him sit by himself if he has to act so 
 common ! Katy, you got to teach him once. ' ' 
 
 Katy gazed at her sister in mingled admiration and 
 awe. 
 
 "I could n't ever speak up to Giddy," she shook 
 her head dolefully. 
 
 "Nor to any one else, Katy," Lavina reproached 
 her. ' ' If you 'd demanded your rights off of Pop the 
 way I did, you might be where I am a school-teacher. 
 Independent, instead of being a slave to Gideon Lapp. 
 What did you marry him for, anyhow? If you had 
 to marry someone, you could have done better than 
 him as pretty and as young as you are," said La 
 vina, with a softened note of sisterly affection. 
 
 "Och," said Katy, coquettishly, "I married him to 
 get rid of him oncet!" 
 
 "A mighty poor way to get rid of a man! I 
 could n't think of a poorer!" 
 
 Katy sighed. "That 's so, too," she admitted. 
 
 But "poor-spirited" as Mrs. Gideon looked, she 
 was not, apparently, the unhappy victim of marital 
 tyranny that Lavina determined to consider her. 
 Her evident contentment in her state of bondage, and 
 
 45
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 her entire acquiescence in everything against which 
 she ought to have rebelled, tried Lavina's patience 
 sorely. For instance, why, in the face of all the 
 causes for dissatisfaction which she had been point 
 ing out to her, should Katy just now be gazing about 
 her front room with a countenance of complacent 
 pride, instead of indignation, the sentiment she ought 
 to feel against a man who would presume to keep her 
 from using freely any room in her house she pleased 
 to use especially one furnished by her own father? 
 Lavina almost despaired as she saw how little impres 
 sion her emancipated views had made upon her sister. 
 Even in Lavina's eyes Katy's parlor was truly ele 
 gant. The crayon portrait of Gideon's first wife (of 
 quite inhuman outline) on a white and gilt easel was 
 a most desirable piece of furniture ; the easel had been 
 purchased by Katy at the ninety-nine cent store. 
 Over the top of the portrait a scarf of cream bunting 
 was artistically draped, tied in the middle with pink 
 satin ribbon. On a low table, set like a shrine before 
 the easel, stood a floral tribute made of wax, techni 
 cally known as "the vacant chair." A highly decor 
 ated china cuspidor, a chromo of McKinley with apo 
 plectic complexion, a row of china ornaments on the 
 mantel, a framed motto, "We Mourn Our Loss" 
 with a weeping willow in the center, worked on can 
 vas in zephyr these were the objects in which La- 
 
 4 6
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 vina, as Katy's sister, could not help feeling an ex 
 cusable pride. 
 
 "I wonder if Melinda Sourbeer's front room 's 
 as handsome," Katy remarked meditatively. "Do 
 you think?" 
 
 "Katy Lapp! Do you mean to say you have n't 
 been over to Melinda Sourbeer's since you married 
 and came to this neighborhood and Melinda your 
 cousin yet!" 
 
 "Giddy, he ain't much fur goin'," Katy weakly 
 answered, cowering before Lavina's disapproval. 
 
 "Then why don't you go without him?" 
 
 "He ain't much fur me goin' neither. He says he 
 feels wonderful contented stayin' home with me." 
 
 "With you sitting by mending his old clothes while 
 he reads his noospapers!" 
 
 Katy could not deny it, though she looked apolo 
 getic. 
 
 "It ain't the point whether he 's wonderful con 
 tented," pursued Lavina. "The point is, are you 
 contented staying at home with him?" 
 
 Katy sighed. "I never follow pleasure no more, 
 Laviny, I don't even think about pleasure no more. 
 And I 'm goin' backwards I 'm less fur pleasure 
 every day. I 'm just gettin' dumnl" (stupid). 
 
 "How far does Melinda live?" Lavina demanded. 
 
 "Just over the church." 
 
 47
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "All right you 're going along with me after sup 
 per to see Melinda. ' ' 
 
 "Mister, he won't want fur me to do it." 
 
 Lavina set her lips. "It 's well I came here when 
 I did, Katy! You 're getting that man so spoilt 
 up! You started wrong. It ain't too late yet to 
 mend your ways with him, but if it had went gone- 
 much longer, you could n't ever have done anything 
 with him. You 're just training him to be selfish 
 and make a slave of you. Yes, it 's well I came when 
 I did." 
 
 "What are you going to do, Laviny?" Katy won- 
 deringly and fearfully inquired. 
 
 "Teach you how to take your rights and not be 
 walked over." 
 
 "I 'd sooner live peaceable." 
 
 "But don't you see it 's your duty not to make him 
 so selfish? And, Katy," confidentially, "he '11 think 
 enough more of you for not letting him down you. 
 Teach him to respect you, Katy," said Lavina, with 
 an air of hauteur. 
 
 This was an idea too foreign to be grasped by an 
 unemancipated Pennsylvania Dutch feminine mind. 
 
 " 'Respect' me, Laviny! Why, I 'm only his 
 woman!" 
 
 "And who should a man respect more than his 
 wife?" Lavina reasoned ungrammatically. 
 
 4 8
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 Katy gave it up. 
 
 "Look here, Katy, leave us go to town this after 
 and shop." 
 
 Katy's eyes sparkled. "0 Laviny! I wisht I 
 could! I ain't been to town to shop since I was mar 
 ried, it 's two months back. But Giddy 's work 's so 
 early done, he gets home till five o'clock a 'ready, 
 still." 
 
 "We can get back till five if we start right away." 
 
 "If we missed a car and was late gettin' home!" 
 Katy suggested apprehensively but wistfully. 
 
 "Then Giddy will wait for his supper till he gets 
 it, see?" 
 
 "0 Laviny! He 'd have so cross at me!" 
 
 ' ' Leave him ! " ( Let him. ) 
 
 "0 Laviny!" Katy sighed. 
 
 "Come on up and get your things on." 
 
 "If you was n't here, I would n't dare to," said 
 Katy, as with mingled eagerness and trepidation she 
 yielded. 
 
 "Would n't dare to go to town when you want?" 
 
 "Giddy, he ain't much fur me goin' nowheres. 
 He 'd ruther I 'd stay home and do the work." 
 
 But under the spell of Lavina's stronger will, Katy 
 entered with girlish pleasure into the shopping ex 
 cursion. 
 
 "Where 's your purse, Katy? Take your money 
 
 49
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 with," Lavina admonished her as they were about to 
 start. 
 
 "I ain't got none only a couple of dollars house 
 money. ' ' 
 
 "Don't he ever give you spending money for your 
 self, as well fixed as he is?" 
 
 ' ' When I ast him fur somepin ' I got to have, he '11 
 mebbe give it to me, if he 's sure I need it bad." 
 
 ' ' I 'd run him in debt till he 'd give me such an al 
 lowance! I 'd plague him till he did what I 
 wanted!" 
 
 "OLaviny!" 
 
 ' ' Spend that house money this after, and he '11 have 
 to give you more." 
 
 "Oh, I darsent!" 
 
 "Take the dare!" 
 
 When they reached the town, the temptation of the 
 shops, together with Lavina 's strong backing, was too 
 much for Katy, and she recklessly squandered over 
 two dollars in gewgaws. 
 
 The reaction from her high spirits set in on the way 
 home. 
 
 "We won't be back in time for me to get on my old 
 frock before Giddy gets home," she lamented. "If 
 he did n't see me dressed, he need n't know we went 
 this after." 
 
 "He '11 have to know it when you tell him the house 
 money 's all," said Lavina. 
 
 50
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Mebbe you 'd leave me borry the loan of them two 
 dollars off of you, Laviny," Katy timidly suggested. 
 
 "How would you ever get the money to pay it back, 
 without you told Giddy about it?" 
 
 "That 's so, too," sighed Katy. 
 
 "Why should I a self-supporting, hard-working 
 female pay Giddy Lapp's wife's bills, and him so 
 well fixed? It ain't the two dollars, Katy. If you 
 needed money I 'd share my last dime with you, and 
 that you know. But I ain't giving Giddy Lapp a 
 nickel! And I ain't encouraging your foolish ways 
 with him." 
 
 "I wisht," Katy monotonously repeated, "I could 
 get my workin' frock on before he comes home. But 
 it 's gettin' late on us; ain't?" 
 
 "Now see here, Katy just you keep this here dress 
 on (you won't dirty it any just getting a little sup 
 per) and face him out with it. Just tell him cheer 
 ful, 'I was to town with Lavina this after' take it 
 perfectly natural and what can he say?" 
 
 To Lavina 's surprise, Katy broke into a paroxysm 
 of laughter. 
 
 "Well?" Lavina inquired. "What 's comic about 
 it?" 
 
 ' ' How Giddy 'd look, yet, if I tole him just offhand 
 and cheerful that way, 'I was to town!' without 
 astin' him dare I! He 'd be that wonderful sur 
 prised!" and again her laughter made her helpless. 
 
 51
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Well, then, up and do it, if it 's so comic," La- 
 vina urged. 
 
 "I wisht I could oncet," chuckled Katy. "If a 
 body had n't such nervous feelings when they go to 
 do them things!" 
 
 "You would n't have to do any of those things 
 more 'n a couple times, Katy he 'd soon get taught. ' ' 
 
 When they reached home, Gideon had not yet ar 
 rived, and Lavina did actually succeed in persuading 
 Katy not to change her dress. 
 
 "You 'd have to put it on again to go to Melinda's 
 after supper," she reminded her sister. 
 
 "Mebbe Giddy won't leave me have dare to go to 
 Melinda's," Katy feebly demurred. 
 
 "You just leave me manage it, Katy. You have 
 your joke and your laugh in telling Gideon you were 
 to town and are going on company to-night (you 
 think it 's so comic), and I '11 manage him if he 
 makes anything" (makes a fuss). 
 
 Gideon and his sixteen-year-old son came in while 
 they were setting the supper-table. He was a stout, 
 comfortable-looking man of middle age, the good-na 
 tured expression of his commonplace and rather 
 heavy face indicating that his shortcomings as a hus 
 band were due to the influences of environment rather 
 than to natural baseness. 
 
 He greeted Lavina stolidly, but kindly. 
 
 52
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Katy had wonderful glad when you wrote her off 
 a letter that you was comin' till Easter," he said cor 
 dially. "This here," indicating his heavily-built, 
 awkward son who hung back, overcome with shyness, 
 "is my son Jakey." 
 
 Jakey limply shook her hand and then slunk into 
 his place at the supper-table. 
 
 "Why, Katy!" Gideon's surprised glance fell upon 
 his wife in her best blue dress. "Did you put on 
 your best frock because Laviny was comin'?" 
 
 "Yes," said Katy, perjuring her soul. "Where 
 have I my jug put?" she quickly added to divert his 
 attention. "Have I it set on the table? Och, yes, 
 there it is. Supper ain't quite fixed all, Giddy. The 
 potatoes ain't made quite." 
 
 "Is it that you was mebb'e settin* round talkin' to 
 Laviny till it got late on you ain't?" he asked sus 
 piciously and with a note of disapproval in his voice. 
 
 "To be sure I 'd set a while with my sister when 
 she come," Katy answered, with quite unwonted 
 spirit; and Lavina rejoiced inwardly at seeing that 
 her instructions were taking effect. 
 
 "It won't do your best frock no good makin' sup 
 per in it," Gideon remarked disparagingly. 
 
 "You think?" Katy retorted disrespectfully. 
 
 With her first word of self-assertion, something 
 within her had seemed to break loose, and a sudden 
 
 53
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 buoyancy of spirit stirred her such as she had never 
 known before in all her life. 
 
 Gideon stared. "Well," he grunted, "hurry on 
 and make the things on the table. Have you the but 
 ter and milk up cellar?" 
 
 "I brang them up this long time a 'ready. They 're 
 on the sill settin'. I must cut my bananas now. 
 Laviny, she likes bananas so sliced and milk with." 
 
 "Bananas costs expensive," Gideon objected. 
 
 "You 're well fixed enough, Giddy," Katy defied 
 him. 
 
 Gideon's jaw fell in astonishment. But his atten 
 tion was attracted by an unfamiliar object on the 
 table. "What 's this here?" he demanded, picking 
 up a new dish and examining it. ' ' Did Laviny bring 
 you this along fur a present?" 
 
 For an instant "the enemy" (the devil) assailed 
 Katy, and she was tempted to lie ignominiously. But 
 after a moment's struggle she conquered not only the 
 enemy, but her own cowardice. 
 
 "Ain't it a fine thing of a dish, Giddy? I got it 
 at the ten-cent store. It looks handsome on the table, 
 ain't?" 
 
 Gideon regarded her coldly. "When was you at 
 the ten-cent store?" 
 
 "This after. Laviny, she asked me would I go in 
 town along with her. ' ' 
 
 Gideon strode over to the dresser to wash his hands. 
 
 54
 
 H 
 
 I
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "You let all your work standing did you?" he asked 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 "I had it through all before I went." 
 
 "I guess you could of found a plenty to do if you 
 had of wanted to find it." 
 
 ' * But you see, Giddy, ' ' she retorted with a perfunc 
 tory cheerfulness of tone, "I did n't want." And 
 Katy shrieked with laughter at her own audacity, 
 while Gideon looked amazed and angry. 
 
 "Where did you get the money to spend?" he de 
 manded. 
 
 ' ' I took the house money. You never let no money 
 fur me, Giddy," she complained. 
 
 "You took and spent the house money!" he asked 
 in consternation, while his son heard, with dropped 
 jaw, this unwifely defiance. "How much did you 
 spend all?" 
 
 "Two dollars and fourteen cents," Katy boldly 
 answered. 
 
 Gideon's face flushed up to his hair. "What d' you 
 buy all ? " he inquired huskily. 
 
 "Some collars and cuffs like what Laviny has. 
 They come to a quarter. Then I got such a center 
 piecewonderful stylish fur the parlor table. And 
 a sofy cushion with Dewey on. And some dishes and 
 some ribbon." 
 
 Gideon could hardly believe his ears. "All with 
 out astin' me dare you?" 
 
 57
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "I 'm of age, I guess, Giddy," she pouted. 
 
 "Do I work all day at the shop fur you to fool 
 away my money where I earn and waste your time 
 so 's you don't earn your keep?" 
 
 Lavina's face flushed as dark as Gideon's at these 
 words, and she set her lips and turned her back on 
 him very expressively. 
 
 "We 've been married together two months, 
 Giddy," said Katy, "and them two dollars is the 
 first money of yourn I spent on myself. And it 's 
 the first time I was to town since I went with 
 you in to say 'Yes.' So you ain't got no need to 
 jaw." 
 
 "If you want to spend, you ast me first," he said 
 with decision. "I ain't makin' up that house money 
 to you. You '11 have to get along without. ' ' 
 
 ' ' That '11 be your loss more 'n mine, Giddy. It 's 
 you will miss the good wittles on the table. Most any 
 thing does me." 
 
 The supper passed in a constrained silence, broken 
 only by an occasional exchange of forced remarks be 
 tween Lavina and Katy. Gideon thought, by main 
 taining a dignified demeanor, to crush in his erstwhile 
 dutiful spouse this new spirit of unwifely insubor 
 dination. It was "that Laviny," doubtless, who had 
 "put Katy up" to this strange and quite impossible 
 behavior. 
 
 58
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 But Katy had tasted of the sweets of independence 
 and was not to be so easily crushed. Gideon's lack of 
 conversation left her apparently unconcerned, though 
 to be sure she was not without some internal quakings 
 at her own temerity. 
 
 After supper Lavina and Katy hurried "to get the 
 supper dishes through," and Gideon, with a deeply 
 offended air, seated himself by the kitchen lamp with 
 one sheet of the newspaper, while his son, Jakey, took 
 the other sheet. 
 
 Behind Gideon's back, Lavina, as she dried the 
 dishes, executed a pantomime expressing her deter 
 mination to take Katy over to their cousin Melinda's. 
 Katy moved her lips in a soundless protest that she 
 must draw the line somewhere. But Lavina suc 
 ceeded in overcoming her objections. 
 
 When their work was finished, instead of drawing 
 about the lamp, they both went up-stairs, coming 
 down in a moment wearing their hats and coats. 
 Katy's face was flushed and her manner nervous. 
 She feared she was going too far. 
 
 Gideon's eyes grew stony when he looked up from 
 his paper and saw her. 
 
 "What now?" he inquired, with ponderous dis 
 approval in his tone and countenance. "What you 
 got your things on fur?" 
 
 "Fur goin' on company, Giddy," Katy tremulously 
 
 59
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 answered. "Me and Laviny conceited we 'd go to 
 Melindy's over." 
 
 "I don't want you fur to go over there," asserted 
 Gideon autocratically. "You 've been runnin' 
 more 'n enough to-day a 'ready. Ain't all afternoon 
 enough to do you? without you must be goin' even 
 ings, too? You stay at home and do your sewin' or 
 snitzin' or whatever." 
 
 "Laviny won't be here but a couple days, 
 Giddy, and she wants me to go with to Melindy's." 
 
 "I don't want you fur to go this evening. I tell 
 you, you wasted enough time to-day. I don't believe 
 in these females that 's so much fur goin'. You just 
 set at home. ' ' 
 
 Katy wavered and looked at her sister for support. 
 
 "Are you ready for going, Katy?" Lavina .in 
 quired, moving toward the door. 
 
 "Yes, 7 'm ready," Katy forced herself to answer 
 bravely, though she trembled as she followed her sis 
 ter across the room. "Giddy," she turned to speak 
 to him plaintively, "you have n't the dare to make 
 me stay home all the time." 
 
 "You mean to tell me you 're goin'?" he demanded 
 incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, I 'm goin', Giddy," she defied him, but there 
 were tears in her voice. 
 
 "The paper wants rain," he put up an objection. 
 
 60
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Then we need n't take umbrellas or gums" (over 
 shoes), said Lavina sarcastically. "It '11 be clear till 
 we get back." 
 
 "You 're slightin' your work to go runnin'," 
 Giddy rebuked her scathingly. "They ain't any 
 coals up fur the kitchen fire. Mebbe it '11 go out till 
 you 're home a 'ready." 
 
 "What 's the matter with your bringing up a 
 bucket of coal, Gideon," suggested Lavina pleasantly. 
 
 "It ain't fur the mister to do the housework," Gid 
 eon growled. 
 
 "Well, if the fire goes out for want of coal with 
 you two able-bodied men sitting here loafing over your 
 noospapers it could go out and stay out, too, before 
 I 'd ever make it up again. Come on, Katy. ' ' 
 
 She laid her hand on Katy's arm and drew her 
 after her as she opened the door. 
 
 "Look at here ! How long are yous going to stay?" 
 Gideon angrily inquired. 
 
 "I don't know right what fur time we '11 be back," 
 Katy answered flippantly, her stock of courage rein 
 forced by Lavina 's support. 
 
 "Yous be home till nine o'clock," commanded Gid 
 eon threateningly. 
 
 "We '11 be home till we please, Gideon," said La 
 vina. 
 
 "I 'm a-goin' to outen the lights and lock the doors 
 
 6l
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 and windows at nine," he affirmed. "If yous ain't 
 here yous can stay out all night!" 
 
 Katy again wavered at this and would have backed 
 out, but Lavina drew her on. 
 
 "If he locks us out, I '11 take you home with me, 
 Katy, to Upper Leacock." 
 
 "0 Laviny!" Katy gasped, but- she allowed her 
 self to be led away while Gideon, nonplussed, gazed 
 after them in dumb amazement and displeasure. 
 
 Ill 
 
 KATY'S enjoyment of the unaccustomed dissipation of 
 a visit to her cousin Melinda at the other side of the 
 village, was much tempered by her anxiety as to the 
 outcome of her insubordination. 
 
 Melinda received them in her kitchen, her parlor 
 fire not being lighted, and all Pennsylvania Dutch 
 kitchens being living-rooms as well. 
 
 Katy kept her eyes so glued to Melinda 's kitchen 
 clock to watch the approach of nine (at which hour 
 Gideon was going to lock the house) that she lent a 
 very absent mind to the animated talk between Me 
 linda and Lavina, and she took little part in it her 
 self, though she and her cousin, being nearly of an 
 age, had always been intimate. 
 
 62
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 On the way to Melinda's, Lavina had maintained 
 that they must, in order to establish Katy's wifely in 
 dependence, stay out past the hour at which Mrs. Gid 
 eon had been commanded to return. 
 
 "You got to teach him, Katy. You can't begin 
 earlier. And once you 're got him taught, I don't be 
 lieve you '11 have any more trouble with him. Giddy 
 Lapp ain't a bad man," she conceded. "I 've seen 
 worse." 
 
 "Well, I guess!" loyally cried Katy. "I guess 
 mebbel" she emphasized her loyalty. 
 
 "But I guess you see now, Katy, you did n't get rid 
 of him by marrying him." 
 
 Almost on the stroke of nine there was a loud knock 
 on Melinda's kitchen door which startled them all 
 and brought a little hysterical shriek from Katy in 
 her nervous apprehension of retribution. 
 
 "I wonder who 's comin'?" Melinda speculated 
 as she went across the room to the door. 
 
 A gruff voice spoke to her from out the darkness of 
 the porch. 
 
 "Is the folks ready fur goin' home, pop says to ast 
 yous. ' ' 
 
 Melinda turned her head and called over her shoul 
 der to her cousins. "So sends mister his Jakey over 
 to fetch yous ! ' ' 
 
 "You tell Jakey we 're not ready yet," promptly 
 
 63
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 and firmly answered Lavina. "When we 're good 
 and ready, we '11 come." 
 
 "It 's nine o'clock," said Melinda inhospitably and 
 in consternation at keeping such late hours. 
 
 "That don't matter anything. We ain't going till 
 a while yet," returned Lavina, while Katy looked 
 rather wretched. 
 
 "Supposin' we get locked out fur all night!" she 
 whispered. 
 
 "Then we '11 just come back here and ask Melinda 
 to keep us. Or we can go to the hotel and charge it 
 up to Giddy." 
 
 Katy giggled hysterically. To go to the hotel and 
 charge it to Gideon would be an audacity bordering 
 on the "comic." 
 
 Jakey went away, and Melinda returned to her 
 callers. 
 
 "Won't your mister have cross at you, Katyt" she 
 inquired. "Mine, he 'd jaw somepin' wonderful if he 
 sent fur me over and I did n't come! I get every 
 morning up at four o 'clock, still, and he 'd say I had 
 n't the dare to set up so late or I could n't fall awake 
 till four o'clock yet. He 's in bed now, and I guess 
 he 's fussin' at me not comin' too." 
 
 Melinda looked sleepy, but Lavina would not have 
 pity on her and take her hints. 
 
 "I 'd soon teach him to leave me be to do as I 
 
 6 4
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 pleased, ' ' she affirmed, putting in a missionary stroke 
 for Melinda's benefit. "Don't he do what he 
 pleases ? ' ' 
 
 "But he 's the mister." 
 
 "And you 're the missus. What 's the difference?" 
 
 Melinda shook her head. "Mebbe them 's city 
 ways, Laviny, but they would n't do us country folks. 
 Ain't not, Katy?" 
 
 "I guess we 're a little dumn, too, Melindy, to take 
 it off our misters to use us the way they do still," 
 Katy said. 
 
 "Does mister use you ugly, Katy?" Melinda in 
 quired in surprise. "It was always put out that 
 Giddy Lapp was good to his first wife, fur all she 
 used to say, still, he don't make much" (is not dem 
 onstrative). 
 
 "He 's good to me, too," Katy hastened to reassure 
 her. "But he 's got the same ways about him where 
 all the men 's got around here to their females. La 
 viny, she don't uphold to them ways." 
 
 "Well," Melinda said conclusively, disparaging 
 these revolutionary ideas, "you can't make the men 
 over. It 's their natures to be wonderful mean that 
 way. ' ' 
 
 "Then it would be my nature to tie wonderful 
 meaner till I got 'em cured once, ' ' said Lavina. 
 
 By half past nine Lavina decided that discipline 
 
 65
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 had been sufficiently maintained, and she rose to take 
 Katy home. 
 
 "I wonder," said Katy nervously, as they felt 
 their way along the dark country road toward the 
 other side of the village, "if Giddy did take and 
 do it." 
 
 "You mean lock us out?" 
 
 "Yes; mebbe he did n't fur all," she said hope 
 fully. "But," she sighed, "he 's a wonderful set 
 man Giddy Lapp. He most always generally does 
 what he says he '11 do." 
 
 "Now look at here, Katy," Lavina prodded and 
 fortified her, "if Gideon does leave us in to-night, I 
 want you to pass me your promise you won't speak 
 pleasant first. Don't you leave on you care. You hold 
 out this once, and you '11 have him minding to his 
 own business after this and leaving you tend to yours. 
 If you stick up for your independence and self-re 
 spect," Lavina said impressively, "just once Giddy 
 Lapp won't give you no more trouble. He '11 leave 
 you come and go where you want. When you go up 
 stairs to-night if he leaves us in just you don't 
 speak to him till he speaks first. Pass me your prom 
 ise, Katy." 
 
 "I don't know if I kin hold out, Laviny. I sure 
 don't want to leave Giddy go to sleep without speak 
 ing me good-night." 
 
 66
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Not even for the sake of having your own way 
 ever after, Katy?" 
 
 "I ain't so sure it will work him that way." 
 f "Well, / am. I know the male mind pretty good, 
 for all I 'm single. To be sure it ain't because I ain't 
 had my chances." 
 
 With a little further pressing, Katy was induced to 
 "pass her promise," and then Lavina felt joyfully 
 sure that her mission in this Easter visit had not been 
 in vain. 
 
 When they reached home, every window in the lit 
 tle frame house was dark. 
 
 "Giddy and Jakey 's both went to bed a 'ready," 
 said Katy, her voice unsteady. 
 
 They tried the kitchen door first. It was locked. 
 
 "Leave us try the front." 
 
 The front door, too, was locked, and every shutter 
 bolted. 
 
 "He '11 get up and leave us in," grimly declared 
 Lavina, ' ' or you 're going home with me till he comes 
 after you." 
 
 She pounded on the door and rattled the knob vio 
 lently, then standing out from the step, she called at 
 the top of her lungs, "Gideon! Gideon Lapp!" 
 
 "Now, Katy," Lavina quickly instructed her sis 
 ter, "when he comes, you speak up and tell him to 
 leave us in immejutly!"
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 After a moment a shutter was pushed open in the 
 second story. 
 
 "What 's wanted?" growled the master of the 
 house, leaning out in his night-shirt. 
 
 "Giddy! You come on down and lock this here 
 front door open ! ' ' called Katy. 
 
 "Umph!" Gideon answered in a deeper growl, "I 
 don't have to!" 
 
 "Yes, you do, Giddy. Or either I go to Upper 
 Leacock with Laviny to stay till I 'm good and ready 
 to come home. ' ' 
 
 "You have n't the dare!" snarled Gideon. 
 
 "I '11 take the dare. You better come and open." 
 
 "I Ve a mind to make you stand there all night- 
 fur the way you 're actin'!" he retorted. 
 
 "But I won't stand. I '11 walk. To the station to 
 go along with Laviny. Are you comin' to make the 
 door open?" 
 
 "Well," Gideon grumbled, "wait a minute." 
 
 They had to wait so long, while he got into his trou 
 sers, that Lavina was tempted to suggest that they 
 give him the surprise of finding them gone when he 
 did come; but she curbed her impatience, deciding 
 that, after all, his reformation could be better accom 
 plished by their remaining. 
 
 Gideon jerked the door open and, not waiting for 
 them to enter, stalked away and went up-stairs again 
 without a word. 
 
 68
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 "Now you mind your promise you passed me," 
 was Lavina 's parting admonition to Katy as they sep 
 arated at the latter 's chamber door. "Don't you 
 speak first." 
 
 "All right," said Katy. "But mebbe when you 
 ain't by me, I won't feel fur bein' so spunky-like. " 
 
 "But you passed your promise. And a promise is 
 a promise." 
 
 "Yes that 's so, too." 
 
 Katy's heart was sore when she joined her lord 
 in their bed-chamber. She was a peaceable creature, 
 and this coldness between her and Gideon weighed 
 heavily upon her soul. 
 
 Gideon was in bed with the covers drawn over his 
 head. Katy sank into a chair beside the window and 
 disconsolately leaned her cheek on her hand. Al 
 though Gideon did not stir, she knew that he could 
 not possibly be asleep. Her heart beat heavily in her 
 bosom. Were she and Gideon to miss their customary 
 loving good-night* The thought was abject misery. 
 Why had Lavina come here to make this disturbance 
 between them? She could not bear to have him 
 "cross at her." Rather, far, that he go on treat 
 ing her with what Lavina called "disrespect." 
 Should she break her promise to Lavina and speak 
 to him? 
 
 No she could not do that. As Lavina had truly 
 said, "A promise is a promise." And her taste of 
 
 69
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 freedom and pleasure, to-day, had whetted her appe 
 tite for more. Perhaps, after all, Lavina was right, 
 and if she held out to-night Gideon would n't 
 "bother" her so much after this and would not op 
 pose her "going," now and then. 
 
 Suddenly she felt herself drawn into Gideon's em 
 brace. He had slipped out of bed and had come up 
 behind her. 
 
 "Katy, you little feist! I believe you would leave 
 me go to sleep without speaking ! ' ' 
 
 He kissed her roughly and shook her playfully. 
 "Will you make up ?" he demanded, as she, in a relief 
 from anxiety that was bliss, clasped her arms about 
 his neck. 
 
 "0 Giddy! Ain't you no more spited at me?" 
 
 For answer, he again kissed her. "I know I get 
 too quick cross," he acknowledged; "but when it 
 comes I can't help it no more. I have n't cross at you 
 now, Katy." 
 
 And so they rested in peace. 
 
 When, next morning at the breakfast-table, Gideon 
 invited Lavina to prolong her visit, Lavina knew that 
 the object of her coming to Katy's had been thor 
 oughly accomplished. 
 
 "But, Giddy," she said regretfully, "I got a re 
 turn ticket, and it calls for me to go back this after. 
 I' m wonderful sorry. Say, Giddy," she suddenly 
 
 70
 
 The Reforming of a Bridegroom 
 
 declared, "I '11 just stay over and let that ticket. I 'd 
 sooner. ' ' 
 
 Gideon chuckled. "Won't that be one on the 
 Pennsylvania Railroad ! " he cried. ' ' Fur you to have 
 bought your ticket fur going back to-day and then 
 not go back to-day! Say, Laviny, they '11 be hot 
 when they find you did n't go back ain't? They 're 
 such a tyrannicky trust that way, it '11 just serve 'em 
 right to get good fooled oncet ! ' ' 
 
 He seemed to take such pleasure in contemplating 
 the confusion of the railroad corporation when they 
 should discover that Lavina did not turn up accord 
 ing to the terms of her ticket, that she, in her gratifi 
 cation at the success of her earnest efforts to reform 
 him, repressed her pedagogical inclination to expound 
 didactically to him that her not using the ticket would 
 be her loss and not the Pennsylvania Railroad's, 
 which was an act of forbearance on her part to be 
 measured only by the extent of the reformation she 
 felt she had worked.
 
 THE CONVERSION OF 
 ELVINY
 
 THE CONVERSION OF 
 ELVINY 
 
 'yi MAZIAH, you dare read off your composition 
 -L\. now," said Eli Darmstetter, addressing the 
 largest pupil of the class that sat before him in his 
 school-room, one warm afternoon in April. 
 
 Eli taught the free school of Canaan, a small coun 
 try district in southeastern Pennsylvania, and though 
 he was a graduate of the "Millersville Normal," he 
 had not lost his native provincial tongue, a unique 
 dialect grown out of the free translation into English 
 of what is known as ' ' Pennsylvania Dutch. ' ' Neither 
 had he lost, in the dignity of being the district 
 teacher, the familiar designation of "Eli," not only 
 because he had all his life lived in this neighborhood, 
 but also because most of his pupils' parents professed 
 the ascetic New Mennonite faith, and the custom of 
 that sect in addressing all men by their Christian 
 names (based on the Scriptural injunction, "Call no 
 man master") had tiecome the conventionally polite 
 form of the district. 
 
 75
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 Amaziah cleared his throat, stole a hasty side glance 
 at Elviny on his right, and coloring deeply rose to 
 "read off" his composition. 
 
 Amaziah was a stalwart young man of twenty; his 
 sun-browned face and hands bore evidence that he 
 was a son of the soil, and his countenance, though 
 somewhat heavy, was so open and honest, his eyes and 
 mouth so kindly, that the heart of the comely Elviny 
 warmed to him. 
 
 This youth of twenty and damsel of seventeen were 
 by no means exceptionally old pupils in the Canaan 
 district school, the short winter term of six months 
 giving so little opportunity for an education that 
 many of the sons and daughters of the district farm 
 ers availed themselves thereof till even a later age. 
 
 Amaziah in a loud though embarrassed voice an 
 nounced his subject and read his production. 
 
 THE USE OF THE STUDY OP GEOGRAPHY 
 
 "The study of Geography which so many people 
 delight in studying. Is studied in all most all parts 
 of the Earth and has been studied since the beginning 
 of the "World already. Without Geography we could 
 not get along just so very well still, for if we wanted 
 to go to Philadelphia. We might go to Harrisburg 
 in a mistake not knowing what direction Philadelphia 
 
 76
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 was from us. When Columbus sailed from Spain in 
 search of the new World He might of went in the op 
 posite direction if He had not of studied Geography 
 before he undertook the expedition. Geography is off 
 great importance to travelers that have to travel all 
 over the World for if they did not know where the 
 places they wanted to travel was They might of never 
 found the places they wanted to travel." 
 
 Amaziah had often said that he would rather plow 
 for a week than write one composition. The above 
 had been an especially strenuous effort, made in the 
 hope that Elviny "would n't think he was so wonder 
 ful dumb, for all he could n't speak off pieces of 
 poetry as good as her." 
 
 He looked vastly relieved as he sat down; and he 
 listened and watched with closest attention as Elviny 
 in her turn gracefully rose, and, placing the tips of 
 her fingers on her lips, coughed genteelly before com 
 mencing to read : 
 
 SINGLE LIFE 
 
 ' ' Single life is the happiest life that ever was spent 
 when you are single you can go when you please and 
 come when you please and stay as long as you please. 
 When you are single you have nothing on your mind 
 still to bother you. Single life is the sweetest life 
 that ever was spent. When you are single you can do 
 
 77
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 as you please you have nothing to bother your mind at 
 all." 
 
 Without so much as glancing toward Amaziah to 
 note the full effect of these radical sentiments, Elviny 
 complacently resumed her seat. As for him, he found 
 himself so painfully surprised at learning that such 
 were the views of the girl with whom he "kep' steady 
 comp 'ny, ' ' that he had no attention to give to the re 
 maining compositions of the class. 
 
 On their way home from school, in the April after 
 noon sunshine, he expostulated with her. 
 
 "Elviny," he said reproachfully, as side by side 
 they walked on the high, wide pike, "the way you 
 spoke in that there composition, it was 'something 
 shameful! I did n't think to hear you read off such 
 thoughts as them. ' ' 
 
 "Oeh, don't be so dumb, Amaziah," Elviny said, 
 poking him impatiently with her elbow. "A body 
 don't have to mean everything that a person writes 
 off in a composition. I had to write off somepin' then, 
 and it was so warm I could n't think what for 
 thoughts to write. There for a while I had a mind to 
 put down how solemn it was to get married. But 
 then it come to me," she said seriously, "how it would 
 b'e a good deal more solemn not to get married. So 
 I just wrote off them thoughts about single life, to get 
 through once." 
 
 78
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 Amaziah 's face lighted up with relief. "I 'd have 
 thought you meant it, and I was now bothered some 
 thing wonderful already." 
 
 There had been a tacit engagement of marriage be 
 tween these two ever since four years before, when 
 Elviny was thirteen and Amaziah sixteen. It had 
 happened one summer evening while they had been 
 swinging together in a hammock by the front gate of 
 Elviny 's home. She had suddenly and unexpectedly 
 said to Amaziah : 
 
 "Say, will you be mad if I tell you somepin', Ama 
 ziah?" 
 
 "N-aw!" in a tone of affectionate scorn at the sug 
 gestion. ' ' Let it out ! ' ' 
 
 "Say-Hove you!" 
 
 "Aw I knowed that already. Say! Will you be 
 mad if I tell you somepin', Elviny?" 
 
 "No; go on; tell me oncet." 
 
 "I love you." 
 
 The understanding thus established had grown 
 clearer every day and hour of the past four years. 
 
 "If them books is heavy for you, you 'd better 
 leave me carry 'em then," Amaziah rather bashfully 
 proposed, as Elviny, to relieve her right arm, trans 
 ferred her pile of school-books to the left. Amaziah 
 always felt embarrassed when he tried to be gallant. 
 
 "Well," she conceded, letting him take them, "if 
 you want. It ain't particular to me." 
 
 79
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 "What for book is this here that you 're got cov 
 ered? Oh, 'rithmetic. Do you know, Elviny," con 
 fidentially, "that 's the only book I 'm handy at? 
 All the other books I 'm dumb in." 
 
 " I 'm different to what you are, ' ' she said ; "I al 
 ways thought 'rithmetic was an awful hard book. 
 When it ain't so warm I 'd sooner write off compo 
 sitions than anything else in school ; I 'm most always 
 got so many thoughts that way it comes easy to me 
 still. But say, Amaziah, ain't you glad school 's goin' 
 to be done next week ? And me and you '11 never go 
 to school no more. Och, but I 'm glad ! ' ' 
 
 "Then we '11 keep comp'ny reg'lar, ain't?" Ama 
 ziah affectionately demanded, coloring and looking 
 self-conscious. "Soon 's we 're done school? You '11 
 leave me set up with you Saturday nights still, ain't 
 you will, Elviny?" 
 
 This privilege had not yet been granted to Ama 
 ziah, as, in the etiquette of Canaan, it would have 
 been irregular for him to have "set up Saturday 
 nights" with Elviny until both of them had finished 
 their schooling. 
 
 "Who else would He settin' up with me but you?" 
 Elviny answered, with an embarrassed little laugh. 
 "Don't be so dumb." 
 
 Amaziah laughed too and blushed again, and glanc 
 ing behind him on the pike, to make sure he was un- 
 
 80
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 observed, he pressed his -sweetheart's hand as it hung 
 at her side. She returned the pressure, then of a 
 sudden drew away from him bashfully, and for a mo 
 ment they walked on in a rather strained silence. 
 
 "It 's warm, ain't?" he presently hazarded. 
 
 Elviny started at a something unusual in his tone ; 
 something which betrayed the fact that for some rea 
 son he was not at his ease with her. She knew in a 
 flash what had come into his mind, and, instinctively, 
 she tried to fight off the dangerous subject which she 
 felt he was taking courage to broach. 
 
 "Whether it 's warm?" she repeated inquiringly. 
 "Yes, I believe it 's warmer than what it was right 
 away this morning." 
 
 "It looks some for rain," he remarked. 
 
 "You think?" she said, a slight surprise in her 
 voice as she examined the sky. "Does the noospaper 
 call for rain?" 
 
 "I did n't see the noospaper this morning then, 
 but the sky looks for showers, I 'm afraid. I wisht 
 it did n't, for I got to help pop through he 's 
 plantin' in the garden this evening, and if it rains 
 we '11 have to come in and leave it rain and then we 
 won't get done already." 
 
 "I wisht, too, it don't rain, so you '11 get done 
 once." 
 
 "Yes, anyhow," nodded Amaziah. 
 
 8l
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 "Ain't this a hilly road ?" 'Elviny quickly asked, to 
 stave off the disagreeable theme she knew was impend 
 ing. ' ' It makes me some tired to walk from William 
 Penn home." 
 
 ' ' William Penn ' ' was the name of the school-house. 
 
 "Yes," answered Amaziah, "there 's hills a-plenty 
 all along this here road. Why there 's hills on the 
 pike already when you 're only at Noo Danville. Say, 
 Elviny?" 
 
 He turned upon her with decision, and she winced 
 as from a lash. 
 
 "There 's just only but one thing, Elviny, that I 
 wisht " 
 
 "Now, Amaziah, I know what you 're at you 
 need n't say nothin' about that!" Elviny tried to 
 check him. "I don't want to hear to it!" 
 
 Amaziah set his jaw obstinately. "It 's time me 
 and you had this here thing out and done with it, ' ' he 
 affirmed. "I like you better 'n any girl in Canaan 
 District, but I ain't goin' to waste my time settin' up 
 Saturday evenings with a girl that 's likely any day 
 to give herself up and put on them darned Noo Men- 
 nonite little white caps and gray dresses with them 
 foolish-lookin' capes! I know them Noo Mennon- 
 ites!" he defiantly exclaimed, his resolution to speak 
 his mind at its highest. Elviny turned pale at his 
 tone and look of determination. "Your folks is Noo 
 
 82
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 Mennonites from way back to your great grandfather 
 already, and when it 's in a body's blood that there 
 way, they 're bound to give themselves up sooner or 
 later unless they promise they won't never! I 'm 
 afraid of it for you, Elviny. ' ' 
 
 ' ' A body to hear you talk, Amaziah, would think it 
 was the smallpox, anyhow, 'stid of religion ! ' ' Elviny 
 almost sobbed. 
 
 ' ' Yes, and I 'd anyhow as soon it was the smallpox ! 
 Elviny, I 'd as soon see you dead as see your pretty 
 face in one of them darned ' ' 
 
 11 Amaziah! I ain't goin' to listen to no sich talk! 
 You speak something shameful ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, I like you 'cause you 're pretty, and if you 
 went and made yourself ugly by wearin' them caps 
 and capes and dull colors, and if you went and turned 
 plain and would n't never no more go to town with 
 me to see a circus or a county fair or have our photo 
 graphs took or whatever, where 'd be any comfort for 
 a feller in bein' married? Elviny, I tell you now, 
 straightforward, I don 't want to be married to no Noo 
 Mennonite. And if I ain't to marry you, I don't want 
 to waste my time settin' up with you Saturdays." 
 
 "Then you need n't! I guess I can find a plenty 
 others that wants to set up with me." 
 
 Amaziah 's determined jaw slightly relaxed. But 
 he held out. "And I guess I can mebbe find others 
 
 83
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 that wants me to set up with 'em, Elviny, so far forth 
 as that goes," he retaliated. 
 
 "You '11 be keep in' comp'ny, I guess, with Sally 
 Haverstick then!" crossly said Elviny. 
 
 "It 's very probably," he relentlessly acknow 
 ledged, "unless you pass me your promise you won't 
 never, as long as you live, put on one of them little 
 white caps with ties." 
 
 ' ' But, Amaziah, how can a body tell whether or no 
 she '11 ever come under conviction and be led to give 
 herself up?" Elviny reasoned with him. "I might 
 never, mebbe. Then again, I might any day. You 
 might mebbe some time come under conviction your 
 self. A body can't tell of them things. I can't 
 choose you instead of Christ, can I ? I think you are, 
 now, onreasonable. " 
 
 "You pass me your promise you won't never put 
 on their little white caps with strings that 's all I 
 got to say. Anything you want me to promise back 
 again, I '11 say yes to. If you '11 pass me that prom 
 ise, Elviny, I '11 marry you and be the best husband 
 to you that anybody kin." 
 
 Elviny knew full well the force of these words, for 
 Amaziah always meant just what he said, and always 
 stuck to it. Moreover, he would be fully able to carry 
 out his promise to be a good husband to her, for he 
 was the only son of a father who owned three large 
 
 8 4
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 rich farms, and was, therefore, in the language of 
 the neighborhood, very "well fixed." 
 
 "If it were n't in all your folks to turn plain, El 
 viny," Amaziah firmly continued, "I 'd never have 
 no fears of such a giddy-headed girl like what you 
 are turnin' plain, for it 's your nature to be wonder 
 ful fashionable, and you 're so much for pleasure- 
 seekin' that way. But," he continued, with stern 
 emphasis, "I never knowed a son or daughter of a 
 Noo Mennonite that did n't some time or 'nother in 
 their life give theirselves up then. And I ain't run- 
 nin' no such risks. You pass me your promise you '11 
 never wear a white cap with ties, or I '11 go and keep 
 comp'ny with Sally Haverstick or whoever." 
 
 "I tell you, Amaziah," Elviny said brokenly, 
 ' ' How can a body make such a promise like what that 
 is? If I ever came under conviction " 
 
 "Then join the Methodists or the Baptists. I pass 
 it as my opinion that there 's good in all religions. 
 You can have religion without turnin' plain. The 
 Methodists stays fashionable after they are convicted 
 of their sins. ' ' 
 
 "But if I was to ever come under conviction, Ama 
 ziah, I could n't never hold to the things of the World 
 no more. It would n't be accordin' to Scriptures, 
 deed 'n' it would n't," she pleaded, with quivering 
 lips. "Oh, Amaziah!" 
 
 85
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 They had turned from the pike into the lane lead 
 ing to Elviny 's home, and the girl suddenly stopped 
 short, leaned against the fence, bent her arm over her 
 eyes like a child, and sobbed. Amaziah's kindly face 
 twitched with sympathy for her trouble as he awk 
 wardly stood before her. 
 
 "I guess you think I 'm usin' you mean, Elviny," 
 he said tenderly, but with no relaxation of his firm 
 ness. "But it 's for the happiness of both of us in 
 the coming future before us, Elviny. I could n't be 
 contented married to no Noo Mennonite. I could n't 
 like you if you did n't dress and act fashionable like 
 me." 
 
 "But mebbe I '11 never be called to turn plain," El 
 viny pleaded. "Mebbe," she said hopefully, "the 
 Spirit won't never lead me to see the light." 
 
 "But then again mebbe it will. I ain't takin' no 
 sich risks. You pass me your here comes your 
 mom. ' ' 
 
 The sudden appearance at the fence of a stout 
 woman holding a dish-pan full of lettuce was the oc 
 casion of Amaziah's sudden digression. The woman 
 was dressed in the "plain" garb of the New Mennon- 
 ites a straight, gathered skirt, an untrimmed waist 
 extending below the belt (to distinguish them from 
 the Old Mennonites, whose basques end at the Helt), a 
 three-cornered cape of the same material as the gown, 
 
 86
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 and a little white cap with flying ties. At a first 
 glance, Mrs. Dinkleberger's face appeared to be com 
 monplace enough, stolid, heavy, uninteresting; but a 
 closer examination revealed in her otherwise dull eyes 
 a look that only a deep experience of life can give to 
 any countenance ; that look which shows that through 
 some channel the soul has sounded its own nether 
 foundations and has laid hold upon a Reality which 
 only those who lose themselves in the larger life of 
 the Divine can ever find. 
 
 "Well," she said in a mild voice, "are yous home 
 a 'ready? It 's only a quarter till four?" 
 
 "We come right away out then," said Elviny, 
 speaking cheerfully to hide the signs of her weeping. 
 "Ain't we did, Amaziah? Are you pickin' the let 
 tuce for market, mom?" 
 
 "Yes, I thought I 'd do it for pop; then it would 
 be done." 
 
 "Why did n't you wait till I come to help you 
 through oncet? She does too much still," she added 
 explanatorily to Amaziah. "Ever since she had the 
 pee-noo-mony, it makes her so tired 'till she gets the 
 work through. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I '11 be glad when Elviny 's done school 
 oncet, so 's she can help me still. We got such big 
 washin's 'till each has their pile, the wash is big al 
 ready." 
 
 87
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 "That 's what mom says still," said Amaziah so 
 ciably. "And she ain't no daughter to help her 
 only a dopplig (awkward) hired girl." 
 
 ' ' Is your hired girl now a doppel, Amaziah ? ' ' Mrs. 
 Dinkleberger asked with interest. 
 
 "Wonderful," Amaziah ruefully answered. "Why, 
 here one day last week she put buttermilk in pop's 
 tea, and fast as mom gets things redd up still, she gets 
 'em all through-other. Mom wishes she 'd leave once. 
 But she won't send her off 'cause it gives you such a 
 name with the neighbors, you know, that way, for not 
 bein' able to keep your hired girl. So mom leaves 
 her stay right on, for all it gives her so much extry 
 work to have her, and makes her tied down so close. ' ' 
 
 "Don't she never get away, still?" Mrs. Dinkle 
 berger asked sympathetically. 
 
 "Oh, now and again she gets to go some. But she 
 never was one of them to go much that way. But you 
 come to see her once, ain't? Don't look on turns." 
 
 "I don't know but what I will, for all I don't go 
 much neither, since I turned plain it 's now four 
 years back. And I have to wait for pop still to drive 
 the horse, 'cause our horse he can't be drove by no 
 women, he still makes so ugly for me at the railroad 
 crossin'. Why one muddy day he made so awful for 
 me when he seen the cars that the buggy was all over 
 dirt." 
 
 88
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 ''Now, think!" said Amaziah in surprise. "Well," 
 he added, "mebbe some day when I 'm drivin' over 
 here, mom '11 come along with me over. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, anyhow," answered Mrs. Dinkleberger, hos 
 pitably. 
 
 "But I don't know just when it '11 suit for the 
 horse," Amaziah said, glancing at Elviny with a 
 meaning look, as who should say, "It '11 suit for the 
 horse to haul me over here when you pass me that 
 promise. ' ' 
 
 Elviny cast down her eyes and looked unhappy. 
 Amaziah 's face manifested no less misery, but he re 
 mained firm. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Dinkleberger, "I got to go in 
 now and make supper. Won 't you come in, Amaziah, 
 and set a while?" 
 
 "Saddy (thank you), but I can't just so very con 
 venient to-day. Good-by." 
 
 "Good-by, Amaziah, then." 
 
 She turned to go, but Elviny checked her. "Wait 
 for me, mom, and I '11 carry the lettuce in for you." 
 
 Hurrying through the gate, she held out her hands 
 for the dish-pan. She did not want to be left alone 
 with Amaziah. She knew him of old, he would stick 
 to his point, and she was afraid to trust herself with 
 him lest she should yield. 
 
 "You '11 have enough to do carryin' them school- 
 
 89
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 books Amaziah 's holdin' for you," said her mother. 
 "Take 'em from him and come along then in. You 
 can make the fried potatoes for me for supper. ' ' 
 
 Without looking at her lover, Elviny took the books 
 from his hands over the fence. 
 
 "Promise, Elviny," he whispered, as he gave them 
 to her. "Go on, dear! That you won't never wear 
 one of them " 
 
 Elviny shook her head, the tears rising again to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "You think it out and write me off a note then," 
 was his parting admonition. And Elviny left him 
 
 and hastened after her mother. 
 
 * 
 
 ELVINY had known from the first that when Ama 
 ziah took that tone of firmness with her, she would, 
 in the end, do what he demanded of her. So she was 
 not surprised at herself when that night, sorely 
 against her conscience, she despatched a note to him, 
 giving the promise that he had required, namely, that 
 she would "never wear one of them little white 
 caps with ties," this particular feature of the Men- 
 nonite garb evidently standing to him for a symbol 
 of all the asceticism and narrowness of the New Men- 
 nonites* life. 
 
 But Amaziah 's joy in his conquest was short-lived. 
 When two evenings later, being Sunday, he betook 
 
 90
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 himself, clad in the "fashionable" apparel his soul 
 loved, to the home of his sweetheart, he found her so 
 pale, so silent, so woebegone, that he was stricken with 
 remorse and sorrow for her. They did not discuss, or 
 even mention, the painful subject of the promise ; but 
 Amaziah felt convinced, after a two hours' fruitless 
 endeavor to make her "act sociable and pleasant," 
 that poor Elviny would never be "contented" again 
 with such a load of sin on her conscience as that 
 promise seemed to be. 
 
 "It 's most nearly as worse as if she 'd turned 
 plain," he thought, in great trouble of mind, as he 
 wended his way homeward in the moonlight. 
 "What 's a body to do?" 
 
 He realized, as time went on, how great a proof of 
 
 ) 
 
 her love she had given him, and this increased ten 
 fold his already strong devotion to her. But as week 
 after week he saw her, under the effect of her burden 
 of guilt, grow thinner and paler and sadder, his own 
 conscience began to trouble him. 
 
 "She thinks she 's choosed me before Christ," he 
 mused. "And it 's near makin' her sick! Poor 
 thing, she won't never be contented no more, I 'm 
 afraid, 'till she 's took back her word to me. ' ' 
 
 Tugging at his own heartstrings was the longing to 
 release her from her promise just for the joy of 
 seeing her look happy once more. But he could not 
 
 91
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 bring himself to that point of self-sacrifice. Her re 
 lief would be so great that she might be led, in her 
 thankfulness to the Lord, to give herself up at once. 
 And then where would he be ? No ; he must hold out 
 in his determination to make her forswear the faith of 
 her fathers. In time, perhaps, she would get used to 
 it and cease to fret. He would wait. 
 
 "But I wisht I could see her lookin' contented once 
 again," he said to himself one Saturday evening, as, 
 with little pleasure in his visit, he walked up the lane 
 to her home. "Blamed if I would n't most be willin' 
 to do anything to see her lookin' contented again." 
 
 He was destined to have this generous wish of his 
 put to the test sooner than he had counted on. When, 
 ten minutes later, Elviny walked into her parlor to 
 receive him, he knew, in a flash such as seldom came 
 to his monotonous, slow-moving mental life, that never 
 had he seen her more beautiful than she appeared to 
 his eyes this night. She was robed as she had never 
 been before. A light gray skirt hung straight from 
 her waist, and a plain, untrimmed, close-fitting basque 
 brought out the beauty of her form and was not con 
 cealed by the little three-cornered cape that lay over 
 the basque. 
 
 The letter of her promise to Amaziah had been that 
 she would "never wear one of them white caps with 
 ties" but, oh, the subtlety of the daughters of Eve 
 
 92
 
 Poor Elviny would never be contented again, 
 with such a load of sin. on her conscience"
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 and the fatuity of the sons of Adam ! an Indian mull 
 cap, not white, but of the faintest shade of gray and 
 having no ties, covered her head. 
 
 However, her "plain" clothes were not the great 
 est change he found in her. What was this new light 
 in her eyes that looked up at him with such deep hap 
 piness shining in their clear beauty? A feeling of 
 awe fell upon Amaziah. Had Elviny indeed got re 
 ligion? 
 
 "You see, Amaziah," he heard her soft voice speak 
 as though coming from a distance, for there was a 
 loud singing in his head that kept him from hearing 
 her clearly, "I 'm keepin' my promise. I ain't 
 wearin' one of them little white caps with ties. This 
 here 's a tinted gray cap and ain't got no ties. The 
 Scriptures have n't got nothin' about the color nor 
 the ties, only that a woman's head shall be covered 
 because her hair 's a pride to her and pleasing to the 
 eye." 
 
 "Are you turned plain, Elviny?" Amaziah man 
 aged to ask in a half whisper. 
 
 " I 've give myself up, Amaziah, ' ' she replied with 
 pale-faced, clear-eyed resolution. "I ain't broke my 
 promise to you, and never will. I '11 always wear 
 these here tinted caps without ties to 'em. Now you 
 have the dare to take me, or leave me be. ' ' 
 
 "Are you contented again, Elviny?" 
 
 95
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 "I never knowed before what happiness it was to 
 be had in this here life. It *s all in servin' the Lord, 
 Amaziah. I had such a troubled conscience it was 
 now a wonderful troubled conscience I had this here 
 while back already. And my fashionable clothes they 
 condemned me something turrible. But it 's all over 
 now, Amaziah. I 've give myself up and I 'm 
 dressin' plain, and I '11 never walk no more in the 
 paths of this World." 
 
 Thus had Elviny followed out the invincible law 
 of her being; for the offspring of New Mennonite 
 stock inherit, from an ancestry whose loyalty to con 
 viction made them victims of the persecutions of the 
 Thirty Years ' War, a persistency in ' ' reverting to the 
 original type" that is in their very life blood, and 
 needs only some stress of circumstances to bring it out 
 in force. 
 
 "Turn your back around behind you and leave me 
 see how the plain dress becomes you," was Amaziah 's 
 stolid comment upon Elviny 's sublime renunciation. 
 
 Elviny slowly revolved herself for inspection. 
 When her back was toward him, Amaziah measured 
 her shapely form with his masculine eye, then sud 
 denly put his arms about her and held her close to his 
 breast. 
 
 "It becomes you something surprising, Elviny!" 
 he whispered ecstatically. "You never looked as 
 
 96
 
 The Conversion of Elviny 
 
 pretty before. And I never liked you as good as 
 what I do to-night!" 
 
 She turned in his arms and laid her head on his 
 shoulder, with a long, happy sigh of relief. He 
 pressed his lips to her soft neck and downy cheek. 
 
 "But we '11 have to be married soon, Amaziah be 
 fore I join meeting, you know. For after I 'm once 
 joined, I can't marry in the World, no more. And 
 you 're in the World, you know. So we '11 have to be 
 married soon. ' ' 
 
 "All right, Elviny," Amaziah heartily responded. 
 "I '11 make it suit just as soon as I otherwise can! 
 We '11 be married till the back end of August al 
 ready!" 
 
 97
 
 ELLIE'S FURNISHING
 
 ELLIE'S FURNISHING 
 
 THE school-teacher, Eli Darmstetter, had "com 
 posed" the form of invitation to be sent to those 
 friends and relatives who lived too far away to be in 
 vited by word of mouth. 
 
 "Canaan, Lancaster Co., Pa. 
 "May 10, 1895. 
 "DEAR FRIEND: 
 
 "Inclosed please find an invitation to our Daugh 
 ter Ellie Furnishing Party, it was to take place on 
 May 5, 1895. But oweing to Some of her Prominent 
 Friends being away and Some had former engage 
 ments, We Concluded to postpone the affair until the 
 10th inst. So I hope it will be Convenient for you 
 and your Esteemable Wife to confer us a favor and 
 pleasure by being present at that Evening. 
 "With Regards and Respects, 
 "I Remain, 
 
 "Truly yours, 
 
 "DANIEL SEIDENSTICKER. " 
 
 101
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 Mr. Seidensticker had this form, with some varia 
 tions to suit individual cases, copied and sent far and 
 wide to all his friends, acquaintance, kith and kin; 
 and the replies that they brought during the several 
 weeks following afforded high entertainment, not to 
 say mad dissipation, to the Seidenstickers. Indeed, 
 so broken up was the dull monotony of their lives by 
 the unaccustomed daily arrival of the mail, and by 
 preparations for the furnishing party and expedi 
 tions to town to buy the furniture for Ellie's parlor, 
 that the nerve and brain of the family were strained 
 to a severe tension in sustaining all this unwonted 
 mental and physical activity. 
 
 "This here 'n is from Bucks County," Mrs. Seiden 
 sticker one evening announced to her assembled fam 
 ily as she opened a letter which Jakey, her nine-year- 
 old son, had just brought from the post-office at Ca 
 naan. It was a mild evening in early May, and they 
 were all gathered on the kitchen porch to enjoy the 
 budget of mail which, since the sending forth of the 
 invitations, had come to be the most important fea 
 ture of their day; Ellie, the grown-up daughter; Si 
 las, her elder brother, who shared his father's labors 
 on their large farm; Jakey, the little brother; and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Seidensticker. 
 
 Mrs. Seidensticker, a large, stout woman a little 
 past middle age, wore the New Mennonite plain dress 
 and white cap, but her fat, dull countenance did not 
 
 1O2
 
 Ellie' s Furnishing 
 
 bear that stamp of other worldliness so characteristic 
 of many New Mennonites. Her pretty, dainty 
 daughter Ellie, who was dressed "fashionable," had 
 much more than her mother the pensive, nun-like 
 face so often seen behind the black sunbonnets of the 
 wives of Lancaster County farmers. 
 
 Mr. Seidensticker, a hard-working Pennsylvania 
 Dutch farmer, did not wear the Mennonite garb. He 
 had never "turned plain" and "given himself up," 
 and he still "remained in the world." 
 
 "It 's from Cousin Elipholat," Mrs. Seidensticker 
 continued. "Ellie, you read ,it oncet," she added, 
 leaning forward in her chair and passing the letter to 
 her daughter, who sat near her on the porch. "You 
 're handier at readin' writin' than what I am still." 
 
 "Leave Si read it," Ellie indifferently returned. 
 
 Her mother looked at her inquiringly. "What 's 
 the matter of you, Ellie? Ain't you mebbe feelin' 
 just so good, or what ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I 'm feelin' just so middlin'; I don't want for 
 to read. Leave Si." 
 
 Mrs. Seidensticker had been vaguely conscious, in 
 the past few days, of the fact that something was 
 troubling Ellie. The girl was not like herself; ever 
 since she and Sam Shunk, her "gentleman friend," 
 had gone to town together to buy the furniture for the 
 parlor in which Ellie was to "set up Sa'urdays and 
 keep company" with him, she had been pale and list- 
 
 7 103
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 less, and at times she wore a look of suffering that 
 troubled the mother deeply. Could something have 
 gone wrong between Ellie and Sam? Mrs. Seiden- 
 sticker's questionings had brought no confidences from 
 Ellie. What a mortification it would be if, when all 
 the preparations were made for the "furnishing" 
 party, at which the engagement of Ellie and Sam was 
 to be "put out," it should transpire that "one of 'em 
 was n't satisfied with the other!" 
 
 Mrs. Seidensticker was greatly troubled. 
 
 "Then, Si, you read it," she said with a sigh, giv 
 ing the letter to her grown son, who sat on the porch 
 step at her feet. 
 
 Silas, bending to the task allotted to him, strenu 
 ously grasped the sheet with both his hands. 
 
 "Dear cousins my Pop he can't come, Because he 
 ain't no more alive. He died. He was layin' for 22 
 weeks. It 's five years back already that he died for 
 me I 'm sorry he can't come. But he 's dead. I 
 would come but I 'm turned plain and wear the garb 
 now and so parties and such things like them don't do 
 me no good, and I 'd best not addict to them things. 
 Pop he would of like to come. But he is dead this 
 five years now. 
 
 "Your Well Wisher, 
 
 "ELIPHOLAT HINNERSHIZ." 
 
 1O4
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Now think!" said Mrs. Seidensticker, with a long 
 sigh. ' ' I did n 't never hear that Cousin Jake passed 
 away. He was a good man," she said mournfully. 
 ' ' If yous could see him right now here on this porch, 
 you 'd know he was one of the finest men settin ' ! He 
 was just comin' forty years old when I seen him last: 
 that was mebbe fifteen years back already. I ain't 
 sure it was just to say fifteen but we won't stop at 
 fifteen, but we '11 give it that anyhow. Do you mind 
 of him, pop?" she asked her husband. 
 
 Mr. Seidensticker drew his long, thin length up 
 from the pump-bed and leaned against a pillar of the 
 porch. 
 
 "Ach, yes, I mind of him. He had sich a long 
 beard that way. He was very proud of hisseff with 
 his beard, mom. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," she said, thoughtfully reminiscent; "he 
 was the high-feelingest man! You see," she ex 
 plained to her children, "he married sich a tony wife ! 
 She was wonderful tony. Her pop was a head-waiter 
 in a hotel, and she was oh, a way-up woman. If she 
 got mad, I want you to notice if the sparks did n't 
 fly!" 
 
 "And do you mind, mom," said Ellie's soft voice, 
 "how oncet when you took me to Bucks County to see 
 her when I was a little girl, she used to use napkins on 
 the table for every-day still?" 
 
 105
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Yes," nodded her mother. "She sayed she was 
 raised that way. But people's ways is different in 
 Bucks County to what they are here. I 've took no 
 tice of that whenever I traveled to Bucks County. 
 Yes, the world changes a heap in thirty or forty miles 
 already. She was so much for makin' the windows 
 open in summer-time. I ain't. We ain't raised to 
 that in Lancaster County. It draws flies. And she 
 did n't raise her babies like what I did. She said I 
 was too much for keepin' 'em covered up and hot. 
 She was n't for that. She did, now, have queer ways 
 to herself. She did n't have no children but only 
 Elipholat and another one that was born dead. She 
 did n't want no more, she sayed, still; she was n't 
 no friend to children. But I tole her when you 're 
 married, you ain't ast do you favor children or 
 no?" 
 
 "Who 's the other letter from, mom?" asked Jakey 
 from his perch on the porch railing. "I brung two 
 and a postal card. When John Doer give me our 
 mail, he sayed he could n't make out the writin' on 
 that there postal card, only he could see it was from 
 Ebenezer Duttonhoff er. " 
 
 "Oh, him," nodded Mrs. Seidensticker. "Here, 
 Si, read it oncet." 
 
 The early shades of the May evening were gather 
 ing and Silas was obliged to hold the postal card close 
 
 1O6
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 to his eyes in order to decipher its faintly-penciled 
 message. 
 
 "FRIEND MARY: 
 
 "Pete he has fallin' fits now and he 's often took 
 worse, so it don't suit just so very convenynt and the 
 horse he has bots and this after the mare she got pink 
 eye for me but if the weather ain't inclement and we 
 can make it so it suits yet for one of the horses we will 
 come then if Sally's foot gets better she 's got it so 
 bad in her foot. 
 
 "Respectfullie 
 
 "EBENEZER DUTTONHOFFER." 
 
 "Ach," said Mr. Seidensticker ; "them Duttonhof- 
 fers was always a ridic'lous fambly for havin' things 
 happen of 'em. They '11 all be here, you mind if they 
 ain't! Pete with his fallin' fits and Sally with her 
 leg or foot or whatever and every one of 'em. 
 They 're always close by when they know a body 's 
 goin' to have entertainment. And when you go to 
 their place they 're just that near they never ast you 
 to eat. Ach, mebbe they '11 ast you to pick a piece 
 but they ain't givin' you no square meal." 
 
 "Here 's one from Cocalico," said Mrs. Seiden 
 sticker. "That must be from Sister Lizzie Miller. 
 Here, Si." 
 
 1O7
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "You 'd better, make the lamp lit then. I can't 
 hardly see no more," said Silas. 
 
 ' ' There 's just only this one any more ; I guess you 
 can make out to read that." 
 
 "Gimme here, then." 
 
 Silas changed his position a bit and strained his 
 eyes to read. 
 
 "SISTER MARY: 
 
 "I wish you the grace and Piece of the Lord. 
 Mamie got Daniel 's Invitation all right she was snitz- 
 ing the apples and cut herself so ugly in the thumb 
 I 'm writing for her I 'd leave her come if I otherwise 
 could but I don't know what to wear on her. I 'd 
 sooner she 'd go as stay, for all we 're getting stran 
 gers Thursdays and we 've made out to clean the 
 kitchen to-morrow, so I don't know how long it will 
 go before I can get time to make her a new dress al 
 ready. It would be wishful for her to have a new 
 dress her other one where she bought off of Haver- 
 bushes is wore out yet. 
 
 "SISTER LIZZIE." 
 
 "Sister Lizzie 's a wonderful hard-workin' 
 woman," remarked Mrs. Seidensticker. "And now 
 her children 's all growed up over her, she works as 
 hard as ever she did still. And her man, he always 
 used her so mean that way. ' ' 
 
 108
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Does he farm yet?" inquired Mr. Seidensticker, 
 who, having washed his hands at the pump close by 
 the porch, while listening to the letters, was now dry 
 ing them on one of the roller-towels which hung on 
 the brick wall of the house. 
 
 The Seidensticker towel-system was unique. Two 
 towels always hung on the side of the house, one of 
 them doing its second week of service for the entire 
 family, the other its first the former being used ex 
 clusively for hands, and the fresher one for faces. 
 The pump, the two roller-towels, and one ' ' wash-rag ' ' 
 hanging over the top of the pump (and known in the 
 family as the wash-rag) constituted the only toilet ap 
 pointments of the household. 
 
 "Whether Sister Lizzie's man farms?" inquiringly 
 repeated Mrs. Seidensticker. "No, he don't carry on 
 nothin' now. He 's such a wonderful man for snitz 
 pie. I guess that 's why they 're snitzing so early. 
 Their winter snits mebbe give out for 'em. Yes, Liz 
 zie 's man was always a friend to pie. And he always 
 sayed to Lizzie, 'Put rigKt much sugar on it.' Lizzie 
 thought that 's what made his teeth go so fast, so 's 
 he had to get his store ones already. He 's got his 
 store teeth better 'n thirty years now." 
 
 The sound, at this minute, of wheels in the distance, 
 on the road which passed their gate, suddenly set the 
 whole family on the qui vive of expectation. Jakey 
 leaped like a squirrel from the porch railing and ran 
 
 1O9
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 to the front fence. Mr. Seidensticker dropped the 
 family hand-towel and craned his long thin neck 
 around the pump ; Silas, Ellie, and Mrs. Seidensticker 
 leaned forward expectantly. 
 
 Not that they were dreading or pleasantly antici 
 pating (as might have appeared) either a foe or a 
 friend in the approaching vehicle; but in the dull 
 monotony of their lives the passing of a wagon was 
 an episode of exciting interest. For a wagon to pass 
 a Lancaster County farm-house, and the inmates 
 thereof to miss seeing whose wagon it was, was a mis 
 hap to be lamented for days to come. 
 
 "It 's John Herr's!" Jakey called, as soon as the 
 horse was near enough for him to recognize it. 
 
 "Oh, him!" Mrs. Seidensticker said, in a tone of 
 satisfied curiosity. ' ' I guess he 's been in to Canaan 
 for his mail, mebbe. ' ' 
 
 When John Herr's buggy had passed and disap 
 peared, Jakey came back to the porch. 
 
 "Did you fetch the mail for Abe's this evening?" 
 Mrs. Seidensticker inquired of the child. 
 
 "Abe's" was their designation for the household, a 
 half mile distant, belonging to the young married 
 sister of Mrs. Seidensticker, who had wedded a 
 farmer named Abe Kuhns. 
 
 "Whether I fetched the mail for Abe's?" re 
 peated Jakey. "Yes, I fetched it down to 'em then." 
 
 11O
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "What did they get?" 
 
 "Nothin' but the 'Weekly Intelligencer,' " Jakey 
 replied, taking a handful of dried apples out of a pan 
 on the porch bench and beginning to eat them. 
 
 "You 're to leave them snits be now," admonished 
 his mother. 
 
 "I did n't eat very hearty at supper," argued 
 Jakey. "I had to hurry to get done once, to go for 
 the mail already, and I had only butter-bread and 
 coffee soup." 
 
 "Well, if you feel for some more supper, go to the 
 cupboard and get a piece. Don't eat them snits. 
 They 're unhealthy when they ain't cooked." 
 
 "I like 'em better 'n a piece," protested Jakey, 
 though he obediently put them back into the pan ; the 
 children of the Pennsylvania Dutch are reared in old- 
 fashioned implicit obedience to parental authority. 
 
 'But you would n't like the stomeek ache you 'd 
 mebbe get if you eat 'em," said his father. "A body 
 must be a little forethoughted that way about what 
 they eat still. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Seidensticker's stout figure rose heavily from 
 her rocking-chair. 
 
 "I 'd mebbe better come in now. You just stay 
 settin'," she added to Ellie. "You seem like as if 
 you was a little tired. You 're so quiet this evening. 
 Ain't you mebbe feelin' good, Ellie?" 
 
 Ill
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Oh, I 'm feelin' just so middlin'," Ellie again 
 softly answered. 
 
 "Is Sam comin' to-night?" 
 
 Ellie rose from her straight-backed seat and took 
 her mother's low rocking-chair. "He did n't speak 
 nothin' about when he 'd come over again," she an 
 swered. 
 
 "Well, I 'm goin' to bed," her mother announced 
 with a yawn as she walked to the kitchen door. "Are 
 you comin', pop?" 
 
 "I might as well, I guess." 
 
 Silas and Jakey, without comment, followed their 
 parents indoors and left Ellie alone on the porch. It 
 was generally understood that the coast must be clear 
 for a possible visit from Sam. 
 
 Sam Shunk had been Ellie Seidensticker's ' ; ' steady 
 regular gentleman friend," not only for the past four 
 months, since her eighteenth birthday, but he had 
 "kept steady comp'ny" with her even before either 
 he or she had reached the age or the worldly condi 
 tion when "settin' up Sa'urdays" was, according to 
 the social rubrics of Canaan Township, the proper 
 and conventional procedure. Time had, therefore, 
 established his prerogative to the soubriquet of 
 "Friend" with a capital F and an especial signifi 
 cance. 
 
 Left alone on the porch in the gathering spring 
 
 112
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 twilight, Ellie's pretty head drooped upon her breast, 
 and a long, tired sigh swelled her young bosom. Pres 
 ently two big tears trickled over her pale cheeks and 
 a little gasping sigh came from her throat. The 
 measure of her Spartan self-control in the presence of 
 her family was the exceeding trouble and distress 
 manifest just now in every line of her relaxed form 
 and delicate face. 
 
 The secret grief that was rending her was the real 
 ization that she must give up Sam. In anguish of 
 spirit she asked herself how she could ever bring her 
 self to do it. For oh, she loved him! He was so 
 kind, so strong, so handsome! In all the town 
 ship, where was his peer? Her soul was knit to 
 his and she did not, she did not, want to give 
 him up ! 
 
 But she must. Sam belonged to the World. And 
 she she was about to give herself to the service of 
 her Lord and Master, who forbade that His children 
 be unequally yoked together with unbelievers. 
 
 It was the "furnishing" that had brought Ellie to 
 this state of self-abnegation. Her mother, as has been 
 said, was a New Mennonite. The creed of this sect, 
 forbidding not only gay apparel, but also any but the 
 plainest and simplest of household furnishings, the 
 custom has grown up among its members of leaving 
 the "front room" of their homes unfurnished until
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 the eldest daughter shall have come of age, when, if 
 by that time she has not been moved by the spirit to 
 ' ' give herself up, ' ' that is, to abandon the vain pomps 
 and glories of this wicked world, "turn plain" and 
 join the New Mennonites, her parents give vent to 
 their long repressed human instincts for adornment 
 and fit up the parlor for her in the best style they can 
 afford. 
 
 New Mennonites never force their own convictions 
 upon their children, for since it is the Spirit only, 
 and not any human agent, which can teach men the 
 way of salvation, and as the "mere morality" of the 
 unconverted can never be counted unto a man for 
 righteousness, either he must, of his own free will and 
 accord and without outside influence, give himself ab 
 solutely and entirely to the Lord's service, or else be 
 a child of "the enemy" outright. There is no me 
 dium course. It is thus that the New Mennonites ex 
 plain this seeming inconsistency of freely allowing to 
 their children the "vanities" which they themselves 
 eschew as sinful. 
 
 The event regularly known in Lancaster County as 
 "furnishing" is, next to marriage, the most auspi 
 cious time in a young girl's life. As soon as her par 
 ents have "furnished" for her, she is expected to en 
 ter upon her matrimonial campaign and, anon, settle 
 down to "keep comp'ny" with one especial 
 
 114
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 ''Friend," whom, as soon as convenient, she marries, 
 and then the furniture of her parlor is taken with her 
 into her own new home. 
 
 Now Ellie had always anticipated with delight the 
 time of her ' ' furnishing, ' ' and when it had at last ar 
 rived, she threw herself, heart and soul, into the joy 
 of choosing her "things" the cabinet organ, the 
 "stuffed" sofa and chairs, the marble-topped table, 
 plush album, gilt-framed "Snow Scene," and Brus 
 sels carpet. Sam had gone with her, one Saturday 
 morning, to Lancaster, to help her do her choosing. 
 Later in the day he and she had gone to the vaude 
 ville show at the park, and it had Been the shock of 
 the latter, combined with what she had suddenly felt 
 to be the wicked selfishness of her enormous expendi 
 tures for things unnecessary for the soul and only 
 pleasing to the worldly eye, that had brought her to 
 a realization of the frivolity and error of temporizing 
 with the World, and had convinced her of her duty 
 to abandon its pomps and hollowness ; to seek and hold 
 fast to the Truth that the Savior had died to reveal 
 to cold and indifferent man. Her religious nature 
 was awakened, and with clear vision she saw the real 
 things of her life in their true contrast to its vanities. 
 She knew, with a fatal certainty, that never again 
 would she find joy in the things that heretofore had 
 absorbed her to the neglect of her soul's salvation.
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 She must give herself up. And she must therefore 
 abandon Sam. 
 
 How was she ever to break it to him, loving and 
 trusting her as he did ? 
 
 "What '11 he think of me, comin' with somepin' 
 like this and my promise passed only four weeks 
 a 'ready. And he 's so much for me to dress ! And I 
 was always so wonderful stylish! How will I ever 
 tell him I 'm turnin' plain as soon as I otherwise 
 can?" 
 
 But this weakness, she knew, was only a temptation 
 of the enemy of her soul, who watched every thought 
 of her heart, to trip her up and drag her back into 
 the World at the least opportunity. 
 
 Meanwhile, while Ellie was sitting on the porch in 
 the May twilight, battling with the weakness of the 
 flesh in the sacrifice which she was called upon to 
 make for the faith that was in her, Sam Shunk was 
 trudging down the road, toward the home of his 
 sweetheart, on an errand that made every step of this 
 usually blissful walk one of pain and effort. 
 
 He found Ellie alone on the porch where, a 
 few moments before, her family had left her. 
 
 The new pink shirt-waist which she wore made her 
 cheeks look so like ripe peaches that, for a forgetful 
 instant, he anticipated with satisfaction the kisses he 
 would presently press upon their downy softness. 
 
 116
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 But only for an instant. The chilling remembrance 
 came to him of the sad purport of his visit to her 
 to-night. 
 
 With a heavy heart he seated himself in the rock 
 ing-chair at her side. 
 
 So absorbed was he in his own mental burden that 
 he failed to notice how subdued and reserved was the 
 greeting which she gave him. 
 
 From force of habit he began with his usual form 
 of social intercourse in opening up his customary 
 weekly stint of courting. 
 
 "Nice evening, this evening; say not?" 
 
 "Ain't!" Ellie's low soft voice agreed. 
 
 "How 's the folks?" 
 
 "They 're pretty well. " 
 
 A faint impression of something unaccustomed in 
 her tone caused Sam to steal a glance at her fair and 
 delicate face at his side. 
 
 * ' How 's your mom ? " he inquired conversationally. 
 Sam was not brilliant in dialogue, and as Ellie her 
 self was usually not remarkably articulate, their so 
 cial intercourse was sometimes a little difficult. 
 
 "She 's pretty well, too," she replied. 
 
 "How 's your pop?" 
 
 "He 's old-fashioned." 
 
 Sam gently rocked his chair and gazed out across 
 the darkening lawn. 
 
 117
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Nice evening, this evening, ain't it is," he re 
 turned to the charge. 
 
 ' ' Yes, anyhow, ' ' sweetly agreed Ellie. 
 
 "How 's Jakey?" 
 
 "He 's pretty well." 
 
 "Is Si well, too?" Sam asked by way of variety. 
 
 "Yes, he 's pretty well. " 
 
 They rocked in silence for a few minutes. 
 
 "I 'm glad the folks is all well." 
 
 "Yes, they 're all right good," Ellie consented with 
 complacent absence of originality. 
 
 "It 's right warm, ain't?" 
 
 "Yes, pop he sayed it would make somepin' down 
 before morning, he thought." 
 
 "Say, Ellie! I don't trust to be on them trolley 
 cars in Lancaster when it 's goin ' to give a gust. Last 
 time I was goin' to take a trolley ride, I seen it was 
 thunderin' and I tole the conductor I wanted off 
 right away at the corner already." 
 
 "I guess!" Ellie nodded. 
 
 Sam now fell into a temporary silence as he gloom 
 ily contemplated the dread task at his hands of tell 
 ing Ellie the object of his visit. Again he stole a side 
 glance at her, and the strange, plaintive look he de 
 tected about her sweet eyes smote his big, generous 
 heart. How could he make her unhappy? She 
 trusted him and believed in his love for her. What 
 should he do? 
 
 118
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 "Say, Ellie?" 
 
 ''What, Sam?" 
 
 "That man in the dime matynee in there at Lan 
 caster, last Sa'urday, that could twist himself so 
 queer, still, say, Ellie, that was false hair he had on!" 
 
 "You think!" 
 
 "I 'm pretty near sure." 
 
 "Now think!" Ellie said wonderingly. 
 
 "And that colored lady you mind of that sung 
 sich a touchin' piece about 'I wisht my color would 
 fade,' say, Ellie, she was only a white person with 
 shoe-blacking or whatever on her face ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' I say ! ' ' cried Ellie in surprise. 
 
 "A body had n't ought to give their countenance to 
 sich shows like what them is, Ellie. It don't do a 
 person no good. ' ' 
 
 "No, Sam, I don't think so nuther. And if you 
 feel a little conscientious, you 'd better let sich things 
 be then." 
 
 "Ellie, I got to tell you somepin'!" 
 
 "Don't tell me to-night, Sam," Ellie pleaded, feel 
 ing sure he was going to press her to name their wed 
 ding-day, as he had lately been doing most strenu 
 ously. "I ain't feelin' good to-night. Don't speak 
 nothing to me to-night. ' ' 
 
 "I can't help for that I got to tell you this here. 
 Say, Ellie, it ain't that I have n't got no love to you 
 but indeed, Ellie, I can't marry you." 
 
 119
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 Ellie slowly turned in her chair and gazed at him 
 in the deepening darkness. 
 
 "Why not, Sam?" she asked, in a voice so low that 
 he scarcely caught her words. 
 
 "Ellie, I 'm going to give myself up !" 
 
 "Oh, Sam!" 
 
 "Don't tempt me not to!" he cried almost pite- 
 ously. "I want you you know how bad I want you 
 hut you 're in the World, Ellie, and I can't marry 
 you! If it breaks my heart and yours, I 've got to 
 leave you and cleave unto Christ ! It was going with 
 you to town done it and buying them things for 
 your 'furnishing' and then seein' the dime matynee. I 
 seen, Ellie, how pleasing to the eye it was, But not for 
 the glory of Gawd. And I can't never no more give 
 my countenance to fashionable things. I 'm turning 
 plain as soon as I can get to town to get my plain clo 'es 
 once. Servin' the Lord ain't easy, it ain't easy," he 
 said. "You mind where the Bible says, 'if a man 
 smite thee, turn him the other cheek. ' That 's pretty 
 hard, and it would n't suit me so well to do it. In 
 deed, I say that. But I must do all them things if 
 I 'm a child of Gawd. And John Souders preached 
 how he seen 'em die horrible already when they was 
 unconverted. ' ' 
 
 "But Sam-" 
 
 "Ellie!" Sam quickly interrupted, as though 
 
 12O
 
 '' ' And that next evening, the sky was redder than ever'"
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 dreading the effect of her pleading, "it 's like dyin* 
 to me to give you up. I 'd most ruther te dead. 
 But it 's my duty. Last night my sins opened up be 
 fore me and I was wonderful concerned ; and at last, 
 after a great struggle, I made up my mind I 'd give 
 myself to the guidance of the Spirit. Then, here this 
 morning, already, when I fell awake, the enemy was 
 tempting me, and he tole me how pretty you was and 
 how sweet, Ellie. But," Sam solemnly added, "I Ve 
 overcome the enemy, and I come here to-night yet to 
 give you good-by. ' ' 
 
 Only "the angels in the heavens above and the de 
 mons down under the sea ' ' could measure the sacrifice 
 which the stalwart youth was thus making in his loy 
 alty to what he felt to be a larger truth of life than 
 any mere personal relation of his own. 
 
 ' ' Sam ! Sam ! Listen at me. ' ' 
 
 Ellie leaned forward in her eagerness and clasped 
 his big arm with both her hands. "I got in trouble, 
 too, Sam, about my sins, after we 'd been to town. I 
 was in wonderful trouble, Sam. And that evening," 
 she eagerly went on, "the sky got so red I thought 
 the world would go to an end. And next day I seen 
 how nice and humble mom looked in her plain dress 
 and, Sam, I hated my furniture and my fashionable 
 clo'es! And that next evening, the sky was redder 
 than ever! And Sam, I let loose of everything my 
 
 123
 
 Ellie's Furnishing 
 
 clo'es, my furniture, the party and you and joined 
 to the Lord ! And this morning I went over to Mamie 
 Herr's that I got mad at 'cause she talked down on 
 you and I knowed I must be satisfied with all my 
 enemies, so I tole her I was n't any more mad yet. 
 And oh, Sam, it never suspicioned me that the Spirit 
 was guidin' you too!" 
 
 Sam 's arms were about her now, and she was cling 
 ing to him: 
 
 " 'Gawd works in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform.' : 
 
 "Ain't He does, Ellie!" he whispered, pressing an 
 ecstatic kiss upon her lips. 
 "Ain't He does!" was Ellie's rapturous response. 
 
 124
 
 MRS. HOLZAPPLE'S 
 CONVICTIONS
 
 MRS. HOLZAPPLE'S 
 CONVICTIONS 
 
 "TEAVE us come out on the porch oncet, Lizzie. I 
 1 J got to speak somepin' to you." 
 
 "Won't it do till I get through the dishes a 'ready, 
 Dan?" Lizzie hesitatingly asked, pausing in her 
 clearing of the supper-table to glance up at her tall 
 husband. 
 
 "Come out now," Dan said with a motion of his 
 head toward the porch. 
 
 Dan was accustomed to being obeyed; he was fore 
 man of a room in a cotton factory and those under 
 him were wont to heed the mere lift of his eye. But 
 by no one in his employ was his word, his look, his 
 slightest wish so dutifully heeded as by the pretty 
 young wife whom, with the devotion of a strong, deep 
 and constant nature, he loved. 
 
 "The dishes can wait, Lizzie. I '11 help you 
 through with 'em then, ' ' he said, taking his hat from 
 
 12 7
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 a nail in the kitchen wall and walking toward the 
 door. 
 
 "I got somepin' to speak to you." 
 
 Lizzie's sweet face took on a look of faint surprise 
 as, lifting their three-year-old little girl from her 
 high chair, she followed him. 
 
 He turned about in the narrow passage leading 
 from the kitchen to the front door, and took the child 
 from her arms. 
 
 "I tole you I did n't want you to be carryin' the 
 baby so much still (constantly)," he said in a gravely 
 reproving tone. "Leave her walk oncet. It 's too 
 hard on your back, now she 's gettin' so heavy. 
 Now don't forget again, Lizzie, that I tole you; ain't 
 you won't?" 
 
 "I won't," Lizzie meekly acquiesced as she gave 
 the child up to him. 
 
 The little girl, in her big father's arms, laughed 
 with glee and patted his smooth-shaven face with a 
 fearlessness that made her mother smile at the cun 
 ning audacity of the mite. 
 
 Dan perched her on his shoulder and when they 
 came out from the narrow hall to the front porch he 
 swung her up high before depositing her on the floor. 
 She caught his trousers in her tiny fingers and looked 
 up at him insistently. "Up high aden!" she de 
 manded. "Up high! Betty want up high!" 
 
 128
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 He swung her up a second and a third time then, 
 with a hug and kiss, again put her down. It was a 
 never-ceasing wonder to Lizzie the way her masterful 
 "Man" would obey the mandates of his tiny, imper 
 ious daughter. 
 
 This evening, however, as he tossed her "up high," 
 the realization of her growing weight gave him an un 
 easy consciousness that he was being remiss in his par 
 ental duty in not taking some means, whatever they 
 might be, for teaching this audacious baby some of 
 the rudiments at least of respect for parental author 
 ity. Why, she minded her mother better than she 
 did him! He chuckled inwardly as the incongruous 
 fact came home to him, though his heart to-night 
 was not light enough to be much amused at any 
 thing. 
 
 "Now, Betty," he said to the child, "you run 
 'round the yard and play till I speak somepin' to 
 mom. ' ' 
 
 "I 'm afraid she '11 pull them lilies, Dan," Lizzie 
 anxiously suggested. 
 
 Dan's little home on the outskirts of the town was 
 set back in a small "yard," and at the side of the 
 house, just out of sight of the front porch, was a 
 large bush of August lilies, now in full bloom. 
 
 Dan hesitated an instant, then a look of resolution 
 settled about his mouth. 
 
 129
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 "Set down and wait fur me a minute," he said to 
 Lizzie. "Come along, Betty." 
 
 He took the child by the hand and led her around 
 the house to the bush of lilies. 
 
 "Now, Betty," he earnestly spoke to her as he 
 knelt on one knee and held the little girl close to him, 
 "you see this here bush?" 
 
 " 'Es," Betty answered with an uninterested air. 
 "Want up high! Up high!" she clamored, trying to 
 wriggle out of his arm. 
 
 But he held her firmly. "Look at them lilies. 
 Now, Betty, I don't want you to touch one of them 
 posies, do you understand? You have n't the dare to 
 touch one of them," he distinctly and emphatically 
 told her. "Now you mind what I tell you, baby, will 
 you?" 
 
 ' ' Betty want up high, Dan ! Up high ! ' ' 
 
 "Will you keep your hands off them flowers?" 
 
 " 'Es. Betty want up high!" 
 
 He tossed her up once more, and when he had put 
 her down, with a parting warning against touching 
 the flowers, he went back to his wife. 
 
 "I 'm goin' to train her to listen without bein' 
 watched," he said to Lizzie as he took a chair beside 
 her, his air of determination sitting heavily upon him. 
 "I explained to her she has n't the dare to touch them 
 flowers. She 's old enough to understand and to 
 
 130
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 mind. She 's comin ' four years old. She '11 be four 
 years old till September. Now if she does touch 'em, 
 I '11 have to learn her!" 
 
 "But that won't put the lilies back on the bushes, 
 Dan, if she 's pulled 'em," Lizzie again anxiously de 
 murred. 
 
 ' ' I can 't help fur that. We got to begin with some- 
 pin' to learn her to mind without bein' watched," he 
 returned ; and, as usual, his word was final and Lizzie, 
 in spite of her uneasiness for her flowers, let him have 
 his way. 
 
 "What did you want to speak to me, Dan? Is 
 somepin' the matter, or whatever?" 
 
 "Yes." He paused an instant, then doggedly 
 added: "I 've been set Hack by the meetin'." 
 
 Lizzie and Dan were New Mennonites and wore the 
 "plain" garb. To be "set back by the meeting" 
 meant to be suspended temporarily from church 
 membership, this discipline not only being counted a 
 disgrace among the brethren, but involving domestic 
 complications that were very embarrassing. 
 
 "You need n't mind, Lizzie. 7 don't mind!" Dan 
 affirmed. He was so accustomed to Lizzie's minding 
 nothing that he did n't mind, that it never occurred 
 to him she might have a personal and separate 
 cause for distress in this matter. 
 
 "But, Dan, when was you set back a 'ready? I
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 ain't heard no one speak nothin' about it. 
 Dan!" 
 
 "Here about three weeks back don't you mind, Liz 
 zie, three of the brethren come to see me one evening ? 
 And I did n't tell you what they come fur, because I 
 did n't see no use in your botherin' your mind with 
 their foolishness." 
 
 "Did they come to reason with you? But, Dan, 
 what can they lay to you? You 're as consistent a 
 member as you otherwise could be !" she loyally main 
 tained. 
 
 "You never heard such blamed foolishness as they 
 spoke to me that evening! It 's made me that put 
 out with New Mennonites I '11 never have nothin' 
 more to do with 'em ! ' ' 
 
 Had a bomb exploded at her feet, Lizzie could not 
 have been more startled and confounded than she was 
 by this unusual language from her smooth-shaven 
 New Mennonite husband. That he should say 
 "blamed!" It was so nearly like swearing and the 
 language of New Mennonites is ever restrained and 
 well-considered. And that Dan should "talk down" 
 on his church the true church of Christ! Lizzie's 
 brain reeled as she heard him. 
 
 "They come to reason with me and give me warnin' 
 I 'd be set back if I did n 't show I cared more fur the 
 Lord than what I did fur "my child, because they all 
 
 132
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 seen how in meetin', when Betty gets sleepy, still, I 
 hold her on my lap and leave her sleep and how I 
 mebbe smooth her hair, still, or mebbe oncet or twicet 
 kiss her yet ! It was disrespec 'f ul to Almighty Gawd, 
 they sayed, to set such affection on my child. They 
 sayed when my child was with me the Lord was n't 
 paid much attention to, and if I did n't mind to my 
 self better, He 'd mebbe take my baby from me, they 
 sayed. And I up and tole 'em they was a pack of 
 fools. Then they spoke the Scriptures to me how you 
 can read, 'Call no man fool lest ye be in danger of 
 hell,' they says. Then they went. And here the 
 next week they come and reasoned with me again, 
 and wanted to know did I repent of my intemp'rate 
 language? And I sayed I was willin' to take half the 
 blame if they 'd take the other half fur speakin' such 
 nonsense to a man like what they speaked to me 
 which it ain't to be surprised if it made a body mad. 
 But no, they wanted me to take the whole blame, my 
 half and their 'n' too yet! And that there," Dan 
 stubbornly declared, "that there I would n't do! 
 Half the blame I 'd take. But the other half I 
 would n't take. Then here this after, they come to 
 the shop and tole me I was set back till I become 
 conscious to myself I 'd done wrong. I tole 'em I 
 did n't do nothin' to repent. They sayed my deport 
 ment in life testifies I live carnal. Them was their 
 
 133
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 words. I sayed, did I ever leave liquor boss me, or 
 tobacco, or whatever? So I was that put out with 
 'em, I got rid of 'em as soon as I otherwise could. 
 And now, Lizzie, to be sure since I 'm set back, you '11 
 have to come out of meetin' too. Don't wait till 
 they set you back just you up and leave 'em know 
 open, that you ain't no more one of 'em. I did n't 
 tell you none of this before, but now since I 'm set 
 back, to be sure you had to know. Don't leave it 
 bother you any. It don't bother me any. I was any 
 how gettin' to feel that these here New Mennonites 
 did n't suit me so wery good, with their claiming 
 they 're the only true church. There 's good in all 
 churches, I say." 
 
 "But, Dan!" wailed Lizzie, "the Lutheran re 
 ligion or the Presbyterian or any of them churches 
 which belongs to the world, them 's no religions to 
 die by, Dan! Think what it '11 mean to me if you 
 don't hold out in your profession" 
 
 Dan had no time to express his surprise at this un 
 wonted opposition to him and lack of loyalty to his 
 side, for, at this moment, small Betty appeared at the 
 step of the porch, bearing an armful of long-stemmed 
 August lilies. 
 
 "Betty picked 'em fur 'oo, Dan," she ingratia 
 tingly lisped, gazing up confidingly into the non 
 plussed face of her father. "Pitty pothieth fur 
 'oo !" 
 
 134
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 Dan turned pale and the determination in the set 
 of his lips became Bismarckish, as he rose from his 
 chair. 
 
 "Dan," faintly cried Lizzie as she caught that look 
 on his face, "what are you goin' to do to her?" 
 
 "I '11 have to learn her, Lizzie," Dan's big, firm 
 voice responded. "She 's old enough to get learn 't 
 now and she ain't that dumb (stupid) but what she 
 understood me when I tole her she had n't the dare 
 to touch them lilies." 
 
 Lizzie sank back in her chair, as usual acquiescing 
 helplessly. 
 
 Dan took the flowers from the child 's arms, his face 
 growing a bit paler as she sweetly told him, "Betty 
 picked 'em fur 'oo, Dan. Pitty pothieth!" 
 
 "But Dan tole you you had n't the dare, Betty. 
 You must n't do what Dan tells you you have n't the 
 dare to do. I '11 have to learn you that." 
 
 He picked her up and carried her into the house 
 and Lizzie, in dread of what was to take place, did 
 not follow. 
 
 "It 's time anyhow that he learnt her to mind," 
 she tried to comfort herself. "But it goes wonderful 
 hard with him. He '11 do it, though, if he sets his 
 mind on it. Dan is now wonderful set, still, once he 
 makes up his mind." 
 
 A great heaviness weighed upon her heart at the 
 thought of how "set" Dan was. Would he ever 
 
 135
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 humble his ' ' high mind ' ' to the point of ' ' giving him 
 self up" once more to the authority of the "meet 
 ing?" She could hardly hope that he would. She 
 would fervently pray that the Spirit might soften 
 him but oh he was "that wonderful set"! And 
 what, if he continued obdurate, must be her course? 
 Her flesh turned cold as she realized with prophetic 
 certainty the impossibility of her yielding in this mat 
 ter to her husband. 
 
 By the rules of the Mennonite faith, a wife can 
 hold no communication with her husband while he re 
 mains either a backslider or an ex-communicant. She 
 must assist the church in disciplining him by cutting 
 herself off from all intercourse with him except what 
 is unavoidable in the fact that they live under the 
 same roof. She cannot sit at table with him or share 
 his room. She is prohibited even from speaking to 
 him except when it is absolutely necessary. 
 
 To Lizzie, the tragedy of being obliged to take this 
 course with her devoted husband, the realization of 
 the terrible strain her naturally yielding mind must 
 bear in withstanding his strong will, made her very 
 soul sick. 
 
 "He '11 try to make me mind him; he won't leave 
 ,no stone unturned to make me give in to him," she 
 moaned in spirit. "And all our happy life together 
 is spoiled fur us yet!" 
 
 136
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 Had her own soul's salvation been the only thing 
 at stake, she would readily have sacrificed it and 
 burned in hell forever for the sake of her earthly hap 
 piness with Dan. But it was his eternal salvation, 
 also, that was in jeopardy. Until he repented, hum 
 bled himself, and was again restored to the favor of 
 the meeting, he was "out of Christ" and lost. She 
 must cooperate with the brethren in their disciplinary 
 efforts to restore him to the sheepfold. 
 
 Poor Lizzie covered her face with her hands and 
 prayed passionately for strength to "hold out." 
 
 n 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and Lizzie dressed herself 
 as usual for meeting. On this Sunday, for the first 
 time since their marriage, she would go to meeting 
 without Dan. The hands that drew the Mennonite 
 white cap over her pretty hair were cold and trem 
 bling. 
 
 "Oh, Dan, Dan!" her soul cried out. "My heart 
 will break ! I 'd stand by you against any one in the 
 whole world. But I can't stand out against Christ. 
 I must n't give way !" 
 
 Dan came into the bedchamber just as she was put- 
 
 9 137
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 ting on her black sunbonnet over the white cap. He 
 was carrying Betty on his back, his ears serving as 
 reins for her "horsey." 
 
 He started in surprise as he saw Lizzie dressed for 
 meeting. Quickly putting down the child, he went 
 across the room to the window where she stood. He 
 was not prepared for her opposition. Indeed he had 
 not conceived of the possibility of it. She had shared 
 his room the night before and had sat at breakfast 
 with him this morning. 
 
 But now, as his eyes rested upon the pale face in 
 side her black hood, there came into his own counte 
 nance the Bismarckish look he had worn on the pre 
 vious evening when schooling himself to the ordeal of 
 chastising his small daughter. 
 
 "Where you goin', Lizzie?" 
 
 "To meetin', Dan." 
 
 She went to him suddenly and clasped her arms 
 about his neck. 
 
 "Good-by, Dan!" she sobbed. "It 's the last 
 time I dare touch or speak to you except when 
 I got to till you Ve gave yourself up again 
 a 'ready ! ' ' 
 
 Dan laughed as he took her chin in his hand and 
 turned her face up to his. 
 
 "I ain't leavin' you act like that to me, Lizzie! If 
 you 'd Been set back instead of me I 'd of left meetin ', 
 
 138
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 you know I would. And when I 'm set back, I ex 
 pect you to come out from among 'em and stand by 
 your husband." 
 
 "I must obey to the rules, Dan," Lizzie faintly 
 murmured. 
 
 "You must obey to me, Lizzie. Take off your Bon 
 net." 
 
 "Dan, I must choose Christ before you." 
 
 "It 's my opinion a woman ain't choosin' Christ 
 when she 's goin' back on her man. Christ would n't 
 want you to choose Him that there way, I don't be 
 lieve." 
 
 "I must choose Him by obeyin' to the rules of the 
 church He founded. And I must obey to the Scrip 
 ture. The Book says, 'If any man obey not our 
 word by this epistle, note that man and have no com 
 pany with him. Receive him not into your houses 
 nor bid him God-speed. He that biddeth him God 
 speed maketh himself partaker of his evil deeds.' 
 Now, Dan, would n't I be biddin' you God-speed if I 
 lived with you as your wife after you did n't hold out 
 no more and was set back ? ' ' 
 
 "But if you 're wantin' to mind every word where 
 the Book says, you could n't stay in the same house 
 with me at all!" Dan indignantly retorted. " 'Re 
 ceive him not into your house ! ' You see, Lizzie, that 
 contraries the whole thing yet, and I don't believe it! 
 
 139
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 There, now, take your bonnet off. I ain't leavin' you 
 go to meetin' no more, Lizzie." 
 
 "Dan," Lizzie said with solemn resolution, "I 'm 
 not givin' way. I 'm stickin' clos't to Christ. I 'm 
 not givin' way fur no earthly ties." 
 
 "I tell you," Dan sharply returned, "I ain't 
 leavin' you go to meetin' this mornin' nor never no 
 more ! ' ' 
 
 "I can't help fur that. I got to go, Dan." 
 
 Something utterly unwonted in her voice gave Dan 
 a sudden, unmistakable conviction that he had stum 
 bled upon a hitch in his wife's character, the exis 
 tence of which he had never known. He gazed at 
 her for a moment with steely eyes. Love struggled 
 in his breast with a cold-blooded impulse to crush, at 
 any cost, this hitherto pliable will. A fierce jeal 
 ousy of the religion to which she adhered, rather than 
 to her husband, burned in his heart. 
 
 "You ain't goin'," he slowly and with grim de 
 termination repeated. 
 
 He moved suddenly across the room to the door, 
 went out and locked her in. 
 
 m 
 
 Two hours later, in time to cook the noon meal, Lizzie 
 was released from her prison. She manifested no 
 
 140
 
 " 'Dan,' Lizzie said with solemn resolution, 'I 'm not givin' 
 way fur no earthly ties ' "
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 resentment for her morning's ignominious incarcera 
 tion. Her long solitude in her room had only 
 strengthened her resolution to "hold out," to ad 
 here through every trial to the rules of discipline of 
 the meeting, to be "faithful to Christ," though her 
 heart broke in the struggle. 
 
 When dinner was ready she put the baby up to the 
 table in her high chair, then gently spoke to Dan and 
 told him to ' ' come eat. ' ' 
 
 In pale, stern silence he came and took his place. 
 Lizzie did not sit down. He looked up at her as she 
 stood beside Betty 's chair, ready to wait upon him and 
 the baby. 
 
 "Set down, Lizzie." 
 
 She shook her head. It was forbidden that she 
 should sit at table with her recreant husband or 
 speak to him any unnecessary words. 
 
 ' ' Set down ! " he again commanded in a hard, cold 
 voice. 
 
 She looked at him piteously, her lips quivering, and 
 again shook her head. 
 
 "You set down and eat along, or I don't eat one 
 bite!" 
 
 Lizzie's face grew a little whiter and her eyes more 
 distressed. But she remained mute and resolute. 
 
 "All right ! If you want to make us both sick yet 
 that 's your affairs ! ' ' 
 
 H3
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 Pushing back his chair he strode to the door. At 
 the threshold he turned and spoke. 
 
 "It 's easy seen you ain 't got no love to me, or you 
 could n't act like what you 're actin' !" 
 
 This was hard to bear in silence when it was out of 
 love for him and concern for his soul 's salvation that 
 she put herself to this torture. 
 
 Dan went out and did not come home again until 
 nine o'clock that night. 
 
 It was the first Sunday in their married life that 
 they had not spent together. 
 
 He did not find his wife in their bedroom when he 
 came in. Through the open door he saw that she was 
 lying on the settee in the sitting-room. She was 
 "holding out" in a way that even in his jealous, 
 wounded wrath and pain made him marvel at her 
 strength and courage. 
 
 And now began a period of their lives that in after 
 years they did not like to remember. Through three 
 long, weary months the sun in the heavens was for 
 them blotted out. In all that time, though living un 
 der one roof, they were as strangers to one another, or 
 worse. Implicitly, as of old, Lizzie obeyed her hus 
 band's least wish save only when it conflicted with 
 her church's discipline. But in her loyalty to her 
 religious faith she remained immovable. Occasion 
 ally Dan would give vent to his feelings in an out- 
 
 144
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 break of bitter harshness toward her. But invariably 
 he would repent him of this, for he could not be ada 
 mant to the powerful appeal of her evident anguish. 
 
 -So the weeks moved on, filled with keenest suffering 
 to both, and with no sign of yielding in either. 
 
 One day, when the sorrow of their alienation 
 seemed greater than she could bear, Lizzie went to 
 plead with the brethren to reinstate Dan and thus lift 
 the intolerable strain of her cooperation with them in 
 disciplining him. 
 
 She pleaded his virtues. 
 
 ' ' He never used me mean in his life, fur all he 's so 
 wonderful set about havin' his own way still. But 
 Dan was never no rough speaker. He never was one 
 of them to talk a little short to me that way, like some 
 any way, not till this trouble come on us a 'ready. 
 And he was always a wonderful good purvider, Dan 
 was. He says he '11 take a half the blame if yous will 
 take the other half. That 's all the farther he '11 
 go. That other half he says he won't take and he 's 
 so wonderful set that way " 
 
 Lizzie sighed in deep despair, as again she contem 
 plated Dan's "setness" in the face of the hopeless 
 obstinacy in the countenances of the brethren. 
 
 Dan must humble his pride, was their verdict, and 
 give himself up, or eventually be ex-communicated. 
 
 And so, in heaviness of spirit, she went home to the
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 sorrowful life of alienation from the husband whom 
 she loved. 
 
 Dan's bitterness grew upon him, as week after 
 week she continued to "hold out." At last, one day, 
 when she was taking her solitary meal in the kitchen, 
 he came to her with a question. 
 
 "Lizzie," he said, speaking more gently than he 
 had done for a long time, "will you answer me just 
 one thing? How long will it go till you give in to 
 me? I ain't standin' this here thing much longer, 
 Lizzie ! ' ' 
 
 So unswervingly had she hitherto adhered to her re 
 solve to hold no unnecessary verbal communication 
 with him, that he scarcely hoped for an answer to his 
 inquiry. But this time she raised her sad eyes to his 
 face and gazed at him steadfastly, as she replied, 
 "Till you give yourself up again, Dan. I entertain 
 a hope fur you. The brothers and sisters entertains 
 a hope too." 
 
 Dan saw, with clear-eyed vision, as he met her 
 transparent gaze, that never, never would she yield 
 in this matter. If their old relation was to be re 
 stored, it would be he great, strong, masterful 
 Pennsylvania Dutchman that he was who would 
 have to give in. 
 
 And that was what he knew he would never do. 
 Rather would he pack up, bag and baggage, and leave 
 
 146
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 her to her Mennonite brethren and her rules since 
 she preferred them before him. He would not, he 
 could not, give in to her. 
 
 But as he looked at her, suddenly for the first time 
 he became conscious of the great change that had been 
 wrought in her in the past months, a change that 
 somehow made her appear remote and unfamiliar to 
 his eyes. Her daily spiritual struggle had given to 
 her countenance a look of other-worldliness, an ex 
 alted expression that seemed to see beyond the things 
 of earth. 
 
 And there was borne in upon Dan's consciousness, 
 as he continued to look upon this new and unfamiliar 
 face of his wife, the realization of another change. 
 His heart contracted with a sharp agony as he saw 
 this alarming fact. How could he have been so blind, 
 he wondered, in all these weeks, not to have seen it 
 coming on her dreadful pallor and thinness and that 
 frail droop of her whole frame t 
 
 "You ain't eatin' wery hearty, Lizzie," he tenderly 
 said as he noticed the scant supply of food on her 
 plate. "You 're just pickin' a piece (mincing). 
 Why don't you eat more hearty?" 
 
 Lizzie sipped her weak coffee and made no answer. 
 
 "I take notice your hands are gettin' so wonderful 
 poor (thin), Lizzie," Dan went on in a troubled tone. 
 
 Lizzie said nothing. 
 
 H7
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 "Why don't you take some spreadin's?" he contin 
 ued, pushing the butter and the currant jelly within 
 her reach. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Are you gettin' to feel sneaky (choicy) about 
 your victuals ? ' ' 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 "I take notice here fur a while back you keep your 
 self so stroobly. Is it mebbe that you 're too weak to 
 comb yourself?" 
 
 She raised her hands to her wavy hair and smoothed 
 it back under her white cap, then again bent her head 
 to sip her coffee from her saucer. 
 
 ' ' Shall I get you a bottle of the Sanative Compound 
 or some pills or whatever?" 
 
 She gave him a look that expressed her thanks, but 
 shook her head. 
 
 "Mom she took seven bottles of the Compound 
 when she was feelin' mean and it set her up won 
 derful." 
 
 Again Lizzie shook her head. 
 
 "Where are you feelin' mean that you 've got so 
 poor lookin' at your face and hands? Is it your 
 stomeek or what ? ' ' 
 
 Silence was his response. 
 
 "Damn it, Lizzie!" he burst forth in an agony of 
 mind. "Answer to me!" 
 
 She sank back in her chair and stared up at him 
 
 148
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 and suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head, her 
 face turned marble white, her head fell forward on 
 her breast. 
 
 Dan's heart stood still with terror. Was she dead? 
 The blackness of the pit yawned at his feet. In an 
 instant of horror he saw the lonely years stretching 
 out before him without this dear companion. 
 
 "Lizzie!" he hoarsely cried. "Come back to me! 
 Come back ! ' ' 
 
 She rallied from her faint as his warm arms 
 clasped her. The color stole back to her cheeks and 
 lips, her eyes opened naturally, and with a long, tired 
 breath, she rested her head on his shoulder. 
 
 Dan trembled with the great revulsion of feeling 
 that shook him. "Lizzie!" he whispered, pressing 
 his lips to hers for the first time in three long months, 
 his pulse bounding at the loved touch. "Lizzie! Liz 
 zie! You shan't suffer no more!" 
 
 Weakly she lifted her white, thin hand and laid it 
 on his neck, a look of infinite content stealing into her 
 brown eyes. 
 
 "Do you mean, Dan, you 're goin' to give your 
 self up again?" 
 
 "Yes, I do! Lizzie. There fur a minute I thought 
 you was a corp ! And my sins opened up before me 
 that clear I seen it was me killed you if you was 
 dead!" 
 
 Her arm clasped his neck in passionate joy. 
 
 149
 
 Mrs. Holzapple's Convictions 
 
 "And are you willin' now to take the other half of 
 the blame, Dan?" 
 
 "Yes, I am! I '11 go this self -same day and be 
 made satisfied with all my enemies, Lizzie. And I '11 
 get you a bottle of the Compound. ' ' 
 
 "O Dan, I don't need no Compound to make me 
 well now ! ' ' 
 
 She laid her cheek against his and he pressed his 
 lips upon it. It was like the days of their courting. 
 
 "I have even more love for you now, Lizzie, than 
 what I used to have, still, before I give way ! ' ' 
 
 "Let 's always mind after this, Dan, them beauti 
 ful words they sung at our wedding out of our hymn- 
 book. Do you mind of 'em, Dan ? ' ' 
 
 She softly repeated them : 
 
 * ' ' Bless their united love and faith, 
 Thus keep them one in Thee; 
 Temptations never let take place 
 To make them disagree.' " 
 
 150
 
 THE NARROW ESCAPE OF 
 PERMILLA
 
 THE NARROW ESCAPE 
 OF PERMILLA 
 
 SALLIE 
 
 PERMILLA had been weeding in the garden when 
 Christian, coming along, stopped at the fence 
 to speak to her. She was almost overcome with 
 mingled confusion and delight at his sudden appear 
 ance. 
 
 "Och, I ain't combed!" she apologetically said, 
 smoothing her hair. "I 'm some stroobly." 
 
 "Well, you did n't know 7 was goin' to see you, 
 ain't not," jocularly laughed Christian, "or you 'd 
 of combed oncet?" 
 
 "Yes, anyhow," shyly answered Permilla, her 
 timid eyes furtively meeting his, then drooping in 
 maiden modesty. 
 
 "She 's menschen-shy, " thought Christian, with a 
 
 153
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 complacent sense of his awe-inspiring presence in his 
 " Sunday suit." To be " menschen-shy " was to be 
 morbidly timid before one's fellow-men. That Per 
 milla admired him with an unspoken and hopeless 
 passion, Christian had long been aware, and the con 
 sciousness gave him a passing satisfaction in its con 
 firmation of his own good opinion of himself. Of 
 course poor little Permilla, whose pop "rented" and 
 whose folks did not own an acre of land, could not 
 dream of aspiring to conquer the heart of so superior 
 and so prosperous a young man as Christian Yundt, 
 the idolized and indulged only child of his parents, 
 not to mention two doting aunts. But that Permilla 
 should worship him in silence and in despair was only 
 natural and his due. Indeed, how could she help it? 
 Was his peer to be found in all the township his 
 peer in looks, in worldly possessions, in general at 
 tractiveness? No wonder little Permilla languished 
 in secret for the unattainable height of his favor. To 
 be sure, he graciously admitted, he liked the little 
 thing: she was a good, industrious girl, and of a dis 
 criminating judgment withal, since she admired him. 
 There were some few people, Christian had discov 
 ered, who had not the insight to recognize in him all 
 that his parents and aunts saw. 
 
 It was Saturday night, and Christian was going to 
 "set up" with Sallie Cougenhauer, the only child of 
 
 154
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 a father who owned two good-sized farms ; but he did 
 not grudge, in passing, a few words of kindly patron 
 age to Permilla. 
 
 "Are you goin' to weed all evening, Permilla?" 
 
 "I have n't to; but I 'm goin' to." 
 
 "Why are you, then, if you have n't to?" 
 
 "Well, I weed, still, till the dark gets me. Pop he 
 can't help none. He 's just clean sick," she said 
 mournfully. "He is sick the whole week." 
 
 "Ain't he no better to what he was?" inquired 
 Christian, with neighborly solicitude. 
 
 "No, he ain't so good. The doctor says he won't 
 get well," sighed Permilla. "Our hopes is all gone 
 fer him." 
 
 "Too bad, too bad!" Christian shook his head. 
 "Well, good-by to you, Permilla! Don't work too 
 hard!" 
 
 "You sha'n't, neither," politely returned Per 
 milla. 
 
 "I ain't to work too hard at settin' up, do you 
 mean?" demanded Christian, with a laugh. "Now, 
 Permilla, if I tell Sallie you spoke that to me, what '11 
 she say?" 
 
 Christian laughed loud in huge enjoyment of his 
 joke as he swung away from the fence and walked 
 on up the road. 
 
 "Poor little Permilla!" he thought, with a rather
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 tender compassion. "She can't be no shussle (lazy 
 person) when her pop 's took and her and Her mom 
 have all the work to do yet. And, sure, no feller '11 
 want to be marryin' her, with no aus styer (household 
 outfit always given to a Pennsylvania Dutch bride by 
 her father), and her mom to keep when she 's old, fer 
 they ain't got nothin' in bank. And Permilla she 's 
 a nice little thing ; it 's too bad ! ' ' 
 
 Permilla, meantime, leaning over the fence, watched 
 Christian's stalwart figure striding up the road as 
 long as it was in sight, her mild eyes shining with a 
 soft fire, her young face flushed with excitement, and 
 her bosom heaving tumultuously. 
 
 "If we was n't so poor," she longingly thought, 
 "and I could spend more at the clo'es and fix myself 
 up, mebbe Christian would travel with me instead of 
 with Sallie Cougenhauer. " 
 
 She drew a long breath and tears stood in her eyes 
 as she left the fence and went back to her weeding. 
 She knew how vain was her longing. Prudence and 
 economy were the gospel of the Pennsylvania Dutch, 
 and there were no more ardent disciples of this gos 
 pel in all the country than the Yundts. Christian es 
 pecially, youth though he was, had become noted in 
 the neighborhood for his extremely careful weighing 
 of every transaction he made. Indeed, his shrewd 
 ness in driving a bargain sometimes "o'erleaped it- 
 
 156
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 self" and led to his missing some good opportu 
 nities. 
 
 As Christian went on up the road after leaving 
 Permilla, his eyes dwelt with satisfaction upon the 
 goodly fields he was passing, all owned by Sallie Cou- 
 genhauer's father. Even his courting was three 
 fourths an economic venture and only one fourth sen 
 timent. 
 
 There was, however, a lurking misgiving in his 
 heart this evening. For a whole month he had been 
 "keeping comp'ny" with Sallie, and the conviction 
 had been steadily growing in his mind, during all this 
 time, that she was not a "workative-enough girl" for 
 him. 
 
 "She 'd mebbe want me to hire fer her (hire house 
 hold servants)," the uncomfortable possibility some 
 times occurred to him, "and that," Christian firmly 
 resolved, "I would n't do fer no healthy wife. Her 
 pop and mon 's got her some spoilt. ' ' 
 
 His having entered upon the enterprise of "keeping 
 comp'ny" with her, it was a foregone conclusion, ac 
 cording to the custom of the neighborhood, that he 
 would marry her. Matrimony was understood to be 
 the ultimate purpose of a man's going to see a girl 
 every Saturday night, and his withdrawal, after a 
 month of such visiting, would have been regarded as 
 a virtual breach of faith. Therefore Christian's 
 
 157
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 doubts as to the entire worthiness of the object of his 
 desires gave him some uneasiness. What made his un 
 certainty greater was the fact that adjoining the other 
 side of his own father's farm was the goodly estate of 
 Ebenezer Smucher, whose daughter Eamah was, 
 Christian knew, a much better worker than Sallie. 
 A better milker he had never seen, or a more rapid 
 butter-maker. She could get up at three o'clock in 
 the morning and have the family wash "all through 
 till breakfast a 'ready." True, her father had three 
 other children, and so Kamah's inheritance would not 
 be so large as Sallie 's. The question was, would n't 
 her superior industry more than make up for the 
 difference in the landed dowry? 
 
 Christian pondered this weighty matter without 
 coming to any conclusion before he reached Sallie 's 
 gate. 
 
 He knocked on the open kitchen door, and Sallie 
 herself, with sleeves rolled up and wearing a big 
 apron, came forward to meet him. 
 
 "Hello, Krist!" she boisterously greeted him. 
 "Come insides. I ain't through all yet. Mom and 
 pop they went aways, and the new hired girl she 
 wanted off to go on a funeral of a neighbor up her 
 way up behind Reading. So I have to do the sup 
 per work when I have my supper eat. I ain't half 
 eat yet. I guess you 're eat a 'ready, ain't?" 
 
 158
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "Why, to be sure, Sallie. It 's most six o'clock." 
 
 "Won't you pick a piece?" she hospitably inquired, 
 pushing a chair up to the loaded but disordered table. 
 "It ain't much here no more, but mebbe you 'd like to 
 taste our new hired girl's pear apple-butter." 
 
 "No; I 'm full. Why did n't you hurry and get 
 through till I got here, so we could set up together?" 
 
 "I don't like to hurry still; I like to do things by 
 ease. ' ' 
 
 "It takes too long that way to get through oncet." 
 
 "Yes. If mom knew I went so slow and left you 
 see the kitchen so through-other," exclaimed Sallie, 
 "mebbe she would n't jaw me! Ain't it looks in 
 here ! ' ' she cried, in evident enjoyment of the joke of 
 a visitor's beholding her mother's usually neat 
 kitchen in such a plight. But Christian did not ap 
 preciate the humor of the situation from her point of 
 view. 
 
 "Anyhow, if you have a hired girl," he gravely 
 reasoned, "why do you leave her have off? It 's for 
 her to stay and do the work. ' ' 
 
 "But she wanted to go on her neighbor's funeral," 
 good-naturedly answered Sallie. "Don't you think 
 she has a feeling, too, like us? It don't look nice if 
 we don't leave her go on her neighbor's funeral, Krist. 
 Mom would n't half act that way she would n't half 
 tell her she has n't the dare to go. You know when 
 
 159
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 a body 's mean that way -with their hired girl, then 
 the people has to talk right aways. ' ' 
 
 "If I kep' hired help, she 'd stay home and 
 work. ' ' 
 
 "Och, Krist," laughed Sallie, her good nature 
 constantly bubbled over in laughter, "you 're just 
 some spited that I 'm not done my work ! But it 
 don 't take me long no more now. I '11 just make the 
 table cleared off, and then I '11 lay over my 
 dishes till to-morrow. Mom can wash 'em by the 
 cooking breakfast. ' ' 
 
 "Sallie," exclaimed Krist, as the girl began to 
 carry out this program and scrape the plates, "do you 
 mean you 're goin' to let them dirty dishes?" 
 
 Such a proceeding was shocking to his ideas of do 
 mestic economy. 
 
 "Och, yes; I often done that way when I did n't 
 feel for washin' 'em up. Sometimes I 'd sooner set 
 and read a book than wash up my supper-dishes; 
 then I just lay 'em over till morning. ' ' 
 
 Krist stared at her with his most calculating and 
 unlover-like expression of countenance. Presently 
 he spoke, but his simple remark did not reveal his in 
 ward state of chaos. 
 
 "Readin' ! You like to set and read a book still, do 
 you? That 's somepin' I don't do read. That 's 
 somepin' I can't control myself to." 
 
 160
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "I like it now and again, for a change oncet." 
 
 "I don't see no use in it. It don't bring no dollars 
 in, nor it don 't help get the work done. ' ' 
 
 "But it 's interesfin', Krist." 
 
 "Why is it interim' when it ain't help in' you any 
 to get along?" 
 
 "Well, it 's interestfin' to me." Sallie flippantly 
 dismissed the discussion. "Now," she announced, 
 pushing her cleared-off table against the wall, "I 'm 
 done. Come on out and leave me show you my flow 
 ers, Krist." 
 
 Sal lie's flower-garden was another source of men 
 tal perturbation to Christian. "What 's the use in 
 spendin' time plantin' flowers?" he had often chilled 
 her enthusiasm over her flowers by inquiring. "You 
 can't eat them." 
 
 "But I like 'em just for nice, Krist." 
 
 "See my shrubs!" she ruefully exclaimed this 
 evening, as she took his hand and led him out of 
 doors. "They 're nearly all (all gone) a 'ready, 
 and it 's only the 20th of May yet! They 're goin' 
 over so wonderful fast! Here 's only one or so 
 on the bush any more. It spites me something 
 awful." 
 
 Christian made no comment, and her hand in his 
 received no answering pressure. Although Permilla 
 was entirely outside the possibility of his calculation,
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 he did think of her industry in her vegetable-garden 
 with a private comparison between the two girls that 
 boded ill for this flower-loving Sallie. 
 
 ' ' Our neighbor acrost the road he planted such nice 
 bulbs and wines and things, ' ' said Sallie, ' ' and he has 
 such a nice flower-garden. He sent for his bulbs to 
 New York yet. Now think! And now here he has 
 to move, after bein' there only two years. It 's mean, 
 ain't?" 
 
 ' ' And can 't he take along them bulbs he bought ? ' ' 
 
 "Why, no. Whoever moves in will have all." 
 
 "I could n't stand that," exclaimed Christian. 
 "Why, sooner 'n some one else would have 'em after 
 me payin' fer 'em and doin' all the work, I 'd pull 
 'em all up and throw 'em away." 
 
 "Oh, Krist!" laughed Sallie. "If you ain't some 
 thing of a holy terror!" 
 
 They left the flower-garden and went to sit on the 
 porch. 
 
 When, an hour later, Sallie 's parents returned 
 home in the buggy, Christian promptly took his leave, 
 though it was long before his usual time of saying 
 good-night. 
 
 As he trudged along the highway through the dark 
 ness he made a Spartan resolution: "With this here 
 Sallie Cougenhauer I don't travel no more." 
 
 Bamah Smucher was a far more "workative" 
 
 l62
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 woman; of that he was sure. He would go, on the 
 next Saturday night, to "set up" with Ramah. 
 
 That Sallie would grieve and the neighbors "put 
 up talk" at this unprecedented turning from one girl 
 to another a thing never done in Zionsville township 
 Christian was well aware. 
 
 "I ain't a-carin'," he doggedly said to himself. 
 "I 'm marryin' to suit myself when I marry." 
 
 His sense of his own high value in the matrimonial 
 market made him feel but little compunction in thus 
 experimenting with the tender hearts of the girls of 
 Zionsville. 
 
 n 
 
 BAM AH 
 
 AFTER a month's trial of the charms of Ebenezer 
 Smucher's daughter Ramah (so named after the 
 memorable city of Scripture in which was heard ' ' Ra 
 chel weeping for her children"), Christian clenched 
 the matter, at least in the eyes of his neighbors and of 
 Ramah, by inviting her to go to town to the county 
 fair. His injudiciousness in thus rashly binding 
 himself before feeling entirely sure of his own mind 
 concerning Ramah whom, indeed, he found rather 
 tame and bloodless after buxom and boisterous Sallie 
 Cougenhauer gave him, when it was too late, some 
 
 163
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 uneasiness. But he was anxious to attend the county 
 fair himself, and while he was "keeping comp'ny" 
 with Ramah he could not decently go without her. 
 His only safe course would be, he well knew, to stay 
 at home himself; but that was a sacrifice he was not 
 willing to make. 
 
 "I 'd take more enjoyment if it was Sallie going 
 with," he rather regretfully thought. "Ramah, 
 she 's so quiet. But," he comforted himself, "Ra 
 mah 's a more workative girl than what Sallie is. ' ' 
 
 But one serious objection to Ramah was that she 
 seemed so unimpressed by the honor of his attentions 
 to her. "A fellow wants to be made of by his girl. 
 Ramah she don't never make much." 
 
 Even his munificence in offering to escort her to the 
 fair met with a lukewarm reception. 
 
 "Look at here, Ramah; I 'm takin' you to the fair 
 Mondays," he had magnificently said as they sat to 
 gether on the front porch on Saturday evening, Chris 
 tian in his Sunday suit and Ramah in a gorgeous gown 
 of red sateen trimmed with narrow black velvet. Chris 
 tian admired Ramah 's Oriental taste for splendor of 
 color, though he felt some misgivings, now and then, 
 at her evident fondness for dress. 
 
 "It must cost expensive to buy them clo'es," was 
 his troubled doubt. 
 
 "I was goin' to work on the field, fair-day," Ra 
 mah objected. "I don't know if I could go with." 
 
 164
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "You better had, Ramah," Christian urged. "It 's 
 nice at the fair. You can see a good bit of people 
 you never seen before. If you don't feel for walkin' 
 round, you can just set in the buggy and look at 'em. ' ' 
 
 "I don't know," she answered without enthusiasm, 
 "if pop 11 want me to let the work. He might mebbe 
 say he won't do it to leave me go." 
 
 "You can work all morning. We ain't got no need 
 to start early. Not till it gets two o'clock a 'ready we 
 start." 
 
 "Will we get home till six o'clock, in time for me 
 to milk?" Ramah anxiously asked. 
 
 "Yes," Christian nodded approvingly, a warm 
 glow about his heart at her zeal for her domestic du 
 ties, "it gets no later than six till we 're home. You 
 want to go, don't you, Ramah?" 
 
 "Why, yes," mildly responded Ramah. "I would 
 n't care to." Which dubious form signified her will 
 ingness, not her lack of it. 
 
 The appearance of her father at this instant in the 
 doorway, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, his old straw hat 
 on the back of his big round head, and a pipe hanging 
 on his thick red lips, gave them an opportunity to 
 complete their plan. 
 
 ' ' Say, pop, Krist he ast me would I go 'long to the 
 county fair Mondays. Have I dare to go?" 
 
 "Yes, willingly," promptly answered Mr. Smucher, 
 tossing his head to expectorate across the lawn. 
 
 165
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 Christian recognized in this ready permission the 
 satisfaction with which Mr. Ebenezer Smucher con 
 templated the union of his eldest daughter with so eli 
 gible a suitor as Christian Yundt. 
 
 It so happened, however, that this very event of go 
 ing to town to the fair, which promised so well for 
 Ramah's matrimonial prospects, proved her undo 
 ing. 
 
 "I think it can't be I 'm goin' to town oncet," said 
 Ramah, as, on the following Monday, Christian helped 
 her ' ' on the buggy. " ' ' It is five weeks since I was on 
 a buggy." 
 
 "Mebbe you stick, most too clost to the work," gra 
 ciously suggested Christian, as he gathered up the 
 reins and his sleek mare started swiftly down the 
 road. 
 
 "In a sense of the way, mebbe I do," granted Ra 
 mah. 
 
 "But work 's healthy," Christian hastened to 
 amend his suggestion. 
 
 ' ' Still, I 'd mebbe be heartier if I 'd let the work a 
 little now and again. Mom 's always sayin', 'Now 
 you done plenty enough; just let the rest part of it.' 
 But I never felt for stoppin' till it 's all through 
 a 'ready." 
 
 Christian nodded. "Hard workin' and clost savin' 
 that 's the way to get along. ' ' 
 
 166
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "Krist, I want to take time, while I 'm in town, 
 to buy some new dresses and a couple hats," 
 Ramah said. "Will you drive me round to the 
 stores ? ' ' 
 
 "Are you needin' some new things? It seems like 
 you 're got a new dress on every time I see you, Ra 
 mah. Now this here dress," he said, touching her 
 sleeve, "ain't it a new one?" 
 
 "No; I had it four times on a 'ready. It only cost 
 me three dollars any more. ' ' 
 
 "Three dollars for one dress!" Christian almost 
 gasped. "Mom never pays more 'n one seventy-five 
 or so ! " 
 
 "I do now like the pretty new things to wear on 
 me, ' ' said Ramah. ' ' That 's why I work so hard, so 's 
 pop '11 give me plenty enough to dress with. Indeed, I 
 could n't stand it not to have a new dress once in so 
 often, and a new hat to match." 
 
 Here was a confirmation, from Ramah 's own lips, 
 of the fear which had frequently cooled Christian's 
 ardor in making love to her. An extravagant love of 
 finery was her weakness. It was a shock to his feel 
 ings to hear her so frankly acknowledge it. 
 
 "Will you take me to the stores, Krist?" 
 
 "We won't have much time at the fair if we go to 
 the stores," Christian answered without cordiality. 
 
 "I 'd sooner miss the fair than my buyin' my 
 
 167
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 new things. Pop give me five dollars to spend 
 yet." 
 
 "I don't know where the stores is at," Christian 
 objected. 
 
 "Well, / do," promptly affirmed Ramah, with a 
 note of persistency in her cold little voice which 
 struck Christian with surprise, for it suggested a 
 quite unconquerable obstinacy in a character which 
 he had felt, without so defining it in his own mind, to 
 be wholly negative. "I know Lebanon eighteen 
 years now, and I can show you where the stores is at, 
 Krist. I don't miss myself in town." 
 
 This was the introduction to an uncomfortable 
 afternoon for Christian. Instead of sitting in his 
 buggy viewing the passing crowds on the fair 
 grounds, eating peanuts and squandering an occa 
 sional dime on a side-show, he was dragged, an un 
 willing victim, from milliner's to dry-goods store and 
 back to milliner's, witnessing the while, with keen 
 discomfort, the quite reckless extravagance of his girl 
 in indulging her taste in ribbons, laces, and other 
 furbelows. 
 
 "They sell ice-cream here," Ramah hinted to him 
 as they were passing through the aisles of the depart 
 ment-store. An essential feature of the festivity of 
 bringing a girl to town was treating her to ice-cream. 
 
 "Do they?" dully responded Christian. He had 
 
 168
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 seen a sign at the door, "Ice-cream, a dollar a gal." 
 "I ain't payin' a dollar for my gal," he resolved. 
 
 "We '11 look a little furder, Ramah," he told her. 
 ' ' I don 't like this here place. ' ' 
 
 "But it 's a good place, Krist, and I 'm wonderful 
 empty. Let 's set awhile here and eat our ice 
 cream." 
 
 "I ain't stoppin' here fer no ice-cream," shortly 
 answered Christian. 
 
 "Why not, Krist?" 
 
 "I like Beitel's better. That 's where I always 
 go." 
 
 "I don't like Beitel's near as good as what I do 
 this here. Come on, Krist. 1 'm havin' my ice-cream 
 here, anyhow!" 
 
 She walked on ahead of him, and there was noth 
 ing he could do but follow her, which he did with a 
 swelling rage in his heart at the prospect of paying 
 a dollar for the treat. 
 
 When, however, he found, to his immense relief, 
 that the sign at the door was a mistake and that he 
 had to pay only twenty cents for the two biggest ten- 
 cent saucers of ice-cream he had ever seen, he waxed 
 quite jovial and affectionate in the reaction of his 
 feelings ; so much so that on coming up from the base 
 ment cafe on the elevator, he turned to the boy who 
 ran the machine and spoke to him with cordial friend- 
 
 169
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 liness: "Much obliged to you; come to see us ain't 
 when you come to the country." 
 
 The boy grinned appreciatively and winked at the 
 salesman who was with him on the elevator. 
 
 "Did you see how pleased he was that I told him to 
 come to see us?" Krist asked as he drew Ramah's 
 hand through his arm and walked with her out of the 
 store. 
 
 But his good nature was not permitted to last very 
 long. As they went down the street, Ramah saw in a 
 shop-window a red belt and chatelaine, marked sev 
 enty-five cents, which instantly her vanity coveted. 
 
 "My money 's all," she told Christian. "Will you 
 leave me borry the loan of seventy-five cents off of 
 you, Krist? I '11 pay it back to you as soon as I 
 otherwise (possibly) can." 
 
 Christian turned red with embarrassment. He 
 ought to offer to make her a present of it, he knew, 
 but his frugal soul shrank from "spending any" on 
 such a useless bauble. If it were only something for 
 their future housekeeping, now, he would not feel so 
 reluctant. But a lurid red belt and bag where was 
 the prudence or sense in squandering hard-earned 
 money on such a thing? 
 
 "Leave me buy you something more usefuler, Ra 
 mah." 
 
 ' ' Them 's useful enough. They just match my red 
 
 17O
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 dress," Ramah answered, with that mild persistency 
 of hers which Christian was beginning to find most 
 irritating. 
 
 "You spend everything at the clo'es, Ramah!" he 
 rebuked her. 
 
 "Will you leave me borry the loan of seventy-five 
 off of you, Krist?" she repeated. 
 
 "Leave me buy you such a ninety-nine cent store 
 clock," Christian suggested. 
 
 "All right. But will you leave me borry the loan 
 of them seventy-five ? ' * 
 
 "Would you sooner have that there bag and belt 
 than a clock, where 's so useful?" he demanded. 
 
 "I ain't astin' you to give me a present of this here 
 belt and bag. I 'm only astin' you to leave me lend 
 the price of it off of you. Will you?" 
 
 "Well, if you think your pop won't say I had n't 
 ought to have left you spend so," Christian rather 
 shamefacedly consented. 
 
 They had occupied so much time in the shops that 
 there was not much left for the fair. 
 
 On the drive home Christian was low-spirited and 
 had not much to say; but Ramah 's whole personality 
 exhaled her deep but quiet satisfaction in the pur 
 chases she was taking home. 
 
 "Do you think, Ramah, that when you 're married 
 oneet, you 'd be wantin' to spend everything at the 
 
 171
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 clo'es?" Christian rather sullenly asked of her, when 
 they had ridden for a long space in silence. 
 
 * ' If I could n 't spend at the clo 'es after I was mar 
 ried, I would n't be much for gettin' married," qui 
 etly answered Ramah. 
 
 Christian gave his mare a cut with the whip which 
 sent her bounding along on the road at her greatest 
 speed. 
 
 Ramah gasped. "Well, Krist, but you are!" she 
 mildly reproved him. 
 
 "I don't see," growled Christian, "how you ever 
 can wear out so many dresses still. ' ' 
 
 "Well, when I overgrow my clo'es or get tired of 
 'em still, I give 'em to my little sister where ain't 
 outgrown yet, and she fits 'em." 
 
 "And if we was married," Christian burst forth, 
 his feelings getting the better of his prudence, "would 
 you think I 'd buy you clo'es to give over to your sis 
 ter ? Well, I 'd see myself, Ramah Smucher!" 
 
 "You ain't never ast me straight out would I 
 marry you, Krist," Ramah gently suggested. 
 
 Christian suddenly found himself in a tight corner. 
 He moved uneasily in his seat and swallowed hard. 
 For a moment the only sound which broke the em 
 barrassing silence between them was the stamp of the 
 mare's hoofs on the road. 
 
 "The road 's nice for drivin' this evening, ain't!" 
 
 172
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 he presently said in a rather feeble voice. "Last time 
 I was on the buggy it was so muddy I could n't drive 
 through any more." 
 
 Ramah made no answer. Christian realized un 
 comfortably what impatience she must feel with him 
 for so signally failing to rise to her bait. 
 
 "You ain't so young yet, neither, Rarnah," he said 
 defensively ' ' about twenty- two. ' ' 
 
 Ramah was silent. 
 
 "Ain't you about twenty-two?" 
 
 "I have objections of telling," stiffly answered 
 Ramah. 
 
 "Well, it don't matter anything," conceded Chris 
 tian. 
 
 "Then what did you bring it up for?" 
 
 "Well," stammered this "truthful James," "I 
 want to show that mebbe I had my reasons, too, for 
 hesitatin'." 
 
 "Krist," Ramah said pathetically, "it 's hard work 
 makes me look some older to what I am. I 'm 
 workin' early and late still, and you know that makes 
 somepin ' at the looks. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Christian, a little mollified. 
 
 The rest of the drive passed without any further 
 discord; but when, at six o'clock, they reached the 
 Smucher farm, Christian had the prudence to decline 
 to come in to supper, for he was convinced that he had 
 
 173
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 already gone too far with Ramah unless he was sure 
 he meant to marry her. 
 
 Ramah was evidently chagrined at his firm refusal 
 to her urgent invitation. 
 
 "Are you spited at me, Krist, for somepin'?" she 
 asked as she stood at the gate while he held the bridle, 
 ready to get into the buggy again after having helped 
 her out and given her bundles to her brother, who had 
 come out. 
 
 "No," answered Christian. "I '11 wait here, Ra 
 mah, while you get that seventy-five cents off your 
 pop." 
 
 "I can give that to you when you come over next 
 Saturday evening to set up with me. ' ' 
 
 "All right," Krist agreed; but as he jumped into 
 his buggy he made a swift mental calculation. He 
 had fortunately forgotten to hand out, with the other 
 bundles, the ninety-nine cent store clock which he had 
 bought her, and he now determined that until he got 
 that seventy-five cents which she owed him he would 
 not give up the clock. 
 
 "Good-by, Ramah," he hastily said, gathering up 
 his reins quickly ; and before she could answer him his 
 mare had responded to the slap of the reins and was 
 dashing down the road toward his father's gate. 
 
 174
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 in 
 
 THE RETURN TO SALLIE 
 
 AFTER duly weighing the matter, Christian decided 
 that Sallie Cougenhauer's idleness was not quite so 
 grave a drawback to matrimony as was Ramah 
 Smucher's extravagance in dress. He would return 
 to Sallie. 
 
 "She 's anyways better company," thought Chris 
 tian, with satisfaction. 
 
 He knew that his desertion of Sallie for Ramah had 
 made both hm and Sallie the subjects of unpleasant 
 comment in the neighborhood. His attentions to Ra 
 mah had gone even further than those to Sallie, but 
 he hoped that his virtue in returning to Sallie would 
 counteract the effect of what he realized would be con 
 sidered his dastardly behavior in giving up Ramah 
 after having actually taken her to the county fair. 
 
 "It 's a difference in girls, too," he heavily pon 
 dered as he made his way one Saturday evening, 
 three weeks after the trip to the fair, to the Cougen- 
 hauer farm. "A body would n't of thought it could 
 be such a difference in girls as what there is." 
 
 He had, of course, allowed a decent interval of time 
 between his desertion of Ramah and his return to 
 Sallie. 
 
 175
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 He did not feel very much embarrassed at the idea 
 of facing Sallie after his season of unfaithfulness. 
 "She '11 be wonderful glad to see me again," was his 
 confident thought, feeling at the same time a pang of 
 pity for poor lonely, deserted Ramah. 
 
 "I '11 ast Sallie to come walk on the cemetery, and 
 I '11 ast her right aways to pass me her promise to get 
 married as soon as she otherwise can. ' ' 
 
 His pleasant contemplation of Sallie 's gratified sur 
 prise in this unexpected good fortune made his walk 
 across the fields very short indeed. 
 
 What, then, was his chagrin to find Sallie seated on 
 the front porch with Ramah 's brother Ebenezer, the 
 whole aspect and attitude of the two manifesting the 
 unmistakable fact that they were ' ' keeping comp 'ny. ' ' 
 
 He quickly reflected, however, that Sallie must 
 .surely prefer to take him back if she got the chance, 
 rather than marry Ebenezer, who was one of four 
 children, while he, Christian, was the only son of the 
 richest farmer of the township. So he boldly opened 
 the gate and walked up to the pair on the porch. He 
 could see the laughter in Sallie 's eyes and the broad 
 grin on Ebenezer 's mouth as he drew near; but in a 
 few minutes, he felt confident, Ebenezer would Be 
 laughing "on the other side of his face," for Chris 
 tian meant to settle without any delay the question as 
 to which of them Sallie would have. 
 
 176
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "Well, Sallie!" he greeted her as he stood at the 
 porch steps. ' ' Well, Ebenezer ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, Krist!" they both answered. 
 
 "I thought I 'd come over oncet, Sallie." 
 
 "Did you want to see pop and mom, Krist?" jo 
 cosely asked Sallie. 
 
 "No; I come to see you." 
 
 "Did you, now?" Sallie asked, raising her eyes in 
 mock astonishment. "What 's your urrand, Krist?" 
 
 "It ain't no urrand. I come to set up." 
 
 Sallie 's brows went up a bit higher. "Why, I 
 thought you was settin' up Saturdays with Ramah 
 Smucher! I heard it put out that you took her to 
 the fair Mondays three weeks back." 
 
 "I guess," said Christian, feeling awkward in the 
 presence of Ramah 's brother, "me and Ramah seen 
 we 'd made a mistake." 
 
 "Like what me and you seen we 'd made, Krist?" 
 
 "I feel now, Sallie, I never made no mistake in 
 comin* to see you. And," he boldly announced, 
 "I 've came back." 
 
 "And that 's your second mistake, Krist. And, 
 you know, a mistake is no haystack or everyone would 
 have a cow." 
 
 "Sallie, I tell you right now I don't feel I 'm 
 makin' no mistake this time. I pass you my 
 promise. ' ' 
 
 177
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "You think you was mistaken in thinkin' you was 
 mistaken?" laughed Sallie. "But / don't think I 
 was mistaken, Krist, when I preferred Ebenezer to 
 you. Me and Ebenezer 's promised this two weeks 
 a 'ready." 
 
 "But you dare have me, Sallie," heartily urged 
 Christian, his zeal in his quest getting the better of 
 his compassion for Ebenezer. "Ebenezer he knows I 
 had first chancet, and he has the right to give you 
 back to me." 
 
 Sallie threw back her pretty head and screamed 
 with laughter, and Ebenezer joined her with a shout 
 of mirth, the occasion of which Christian could not 
 see. 
 
 "Dare I have you, Krist?" Sallie chokingly asked. 
 
 "Yes, willingly." 
 
 "Well, Krist, I 'm much obliged. But you dare 
 n't have me." 
 
 "Is it you 're afraid of makin' Ebenezer mad, 
 Sallie?" 
 
 "It 's that I don't want you." 
 
 1 ' Is it you want to be coaxed that way, Sallie ? ' ' 
 
 "Coaxin' would n't do you no good, Krist." 
 
 "You know how good fixed I am better 'n Eben 
 ezer. ' ' 
 
 "If you was hung with gold dollars and Ebenezer 
 was in rags, I 'd take him." 
 
 178
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 Christian stared at her, his eyes bulging. "What 
 fer, Sallie?" he asked, in genuine wonder. 
 
 "Because," spoke up Ebenezer, "I 'ma man and 
 not a pig." 
 
 "Och, you 're just mad that I ain't settin' up with 
 Ramah no more," retorted Christian. "But she 
 spends everything at the clo'es." 
 
 "Well," cried Ebenezer, "the people says your 
 folks is so mean that when they set down to eat, 
 they 're so fer savin', they won't eat theirselves 
 done." 
 
 "Sallie," Christian turned to appeal to her, "is 
 it that you want to be coaxed?" 
 
 "Krist, I said I was promised to Ebenezer. But 
 if I was n't promised to no one, I would n't marry 
 you. It 's like what Ebenezer says: you ain't no 
 man, Krist. I pity you, you 're a poor body, but 
 I ain 't marryin ' you for my pity. ' ' 
 
 Christian could hardly believe his ears. He was, in 
 the eyes of her whom he meant to honor with his 
 name, "a poor body," the object of her pity! 
 
 "I don't understand you, Sallie." 
 
 "Go home and sleep on it," suggested Ebenezer. 
 "Mebbe till morning a 'ready you '11 take a tumble to 
 yourself. ' ' 
 
 "Sallie, I ast you now, for the last time, will you 
 come walk on the cemetery and let 's settle this here!" 
 
 179
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "I ain't got nothin' to talk out with you, Krist. 
 I 'm promised to Ebenezer." 
 
 "I '11 give you one more chancet. Are you comin'? 
 Or I '11 go right down back to Ramah this here night. ' ' 
 
 Again Ebenezer and Sallie shouted with laughter. 
 
 "Ramah 's out buggy-ridin' with Jake Gochen- 
 hauer. He 's been her steady comp'ny since the first 
 Saturdays you did n't go over to set up with her," 
 Sallie informed him. 
 
 "And if you go tryin' to sneak back to her," 
 threatened Ebenezer, "it won't take pop long to tell 
 you to go right straight on off." 
 
 "Yes, anyhow," warmly assented Sallie. "I guess! 
 Why, Krist, you 're wonderful dumn (stupid), 
 thinkin' a girl would take you back after your actin' 
 like what you acted by Ramah." 
 
 "Well, she knows now it was a good riddance," 
 said Ebenezer. 
 
 "Yes, anyhow," responded Sallie, with as much in 
 dignation as her abundant good nature could muster. 
 
 Christian, his brain dizzy with a set of impressions 
 of himself and others too novel to be quickly digested, 
 turned away and walked back to the gate. 
 
 ISO
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 IV 
 
 PERMILLA 
 
 CHRISTIAN was humbled, but not crushed. After a 
 few days of bewildered wonder at the unlooked-for 
 turn which events had taken, he rallied sufficiently 
 to plan a signal revenge upon his enemies and 
 detractors. He would "spite" them both Sallie 
 and Ramah by straightway marrying Permilla 
 Gumpf ! 
 
 He almost gasped at his own rashness as he set 
 about carrying out this plan. Permilla 's father had 
 died two months before, and had left his wife and 
 four children without any support. Permilla and 
 her mother would have to slave day and night to 
 make their rented farm pay expenses and keep them 
 from starving. Christian knew that if he married 
 Permilla, he would be expected to do something for 
 her mother and little brothers and sisters to "help 
 along." Nevertheless, he did not falter in his pur 
 pose. He had always liked Permilla. She, at 
 least, could appreciate what a good thing she was get 
 ting, which was what Sallie and Ramah seemed inca 
 pable of doing. And she had the virtues, he knew, 
 which each of the other girls lacked: she was as in 
 dustrious as Sallie was idle and as economical as Ra-
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 mah was extravagant. These two extenuating cir 
 cumstances, together with her profound and just ad 
 miration of himself, for Christian had long enjoyed 
 the pleasing consciousness of Permilla 's evident 
 though unexpressed passion for him, made him 
 overlook her poverty and the humble station of the 
 Gumpfs as "renters." 
 
 So when on the next Saturday night, clad in his 
 Sunday suit, he walked up the road to the Gumpfs' 
 rented farm, he quite swelled with the delightful an 
 ticipation of seeing Permilla overwhelmed with grat 
 itude and happiness at his condescension. 
 
 ' ' I can love her better 'n I could ever of loved either 
 of them other two," he told himself. 
 
 He met Permilla before he reached her door. She 
 was gathering early apples in the orchard a little dis 
 tance from the house. He observed, as he jumped 
 the fence and walked toward her, that she was dressed 
 as he had never seen her before: her gown was new, 
 well-fitting and pretty, and she wore a most fetching 
 hat instead of the sunbonnet usually on her head. He 
 marveled at this unexpected change in her appear 
 ance. He knew he had never before seen her look so 
 pretty, and he was sure she was a great deal better- 
 looking than either Sallie or Ramah. 
 
 She stopped her work and looked up in surprise as 
 he came toward her. 
 
 l82
 
 The Narrow Escape' of Permilla 
 
 "Well, Permilla!" 
 
 "Why, Krist!" 
 
 "How are you this evening?" 
 
 "7 'm pretty good. How 's yourself, Krist f" 
 
 "I 'm. pretty good, too. Are you busy this even 
 ing?" 
 
 ' ' Och, no ; I 'm just getting some apples while I 'm 
 I 'm waitin'. Are you on your way over to Sallie 
 Cougenhauer 's, Krist ? ' ' 
 
 "No, Permilla; I 'm on my way to see you," he re 
 assured her, with an encouraging smile. 
 
 "Oh!" said Permilla, her eyes opening wide. 
 "Then let 's go through the orchard over, and come 
 insides, will you?" 
 
 "Yes; I would n't care to." 
 
 "Is it so, Krist, that Eamah Smucher 's promised 
 to Jake Gochenhauer ? " Permilla 's gentle voice a$ked 
 as they walked through the orchard. 
 
 "I don't know," shortly answered Christian. 
 "You 're lookin' wonderful good this evening, Per 
 milla. You 're some stouter." 
 
 "Yes; I 'm takin' on speck (fat), mom says." 
 
 Christian wondered that the death of her father 
 should have agreed so well with her health. He had 
 expected to find her pale and wan and worn out ; but 
 he had never seen her so blooming. 
 
 "That 's a pretty hat you 're wearin' on yourself, 
 
 183
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 Permilla. Did you get it a present?" he curiously 
 inquired. 
 
 "No; I just got it so to wear on pop's funeral, 
 you know. It 's just my old hat fixed around. It 
 had such red currants on it, and, to be sure, that 
 would n't suit on a funeral, and I sayed to mom, 'I 
 want to wear myself that looks a little according 
 no such red currants,' I sayed. So I ast Ramah 
 Smucher would she please and take my hat to town 
 when she is going two days before the funeral. Well, 
 don't you think, Krist, she took it with and then 
 when she come home she did n't have it along, and the 
 day after to-morrow was the funeral yet. I was so 
 sick she has n 't got my hat when she come from town ! 
 And then Abe he went in special and fetched it. And 
 it looks so nice ; the people on the funeral don't believe 
 on me it 's my old hat fixed around. I can 't tell right 
 what these here flowers on it is, ' ' she added dubiously. 
 "White daisies or narcissus what is it?" 
 
 "What did it cost you to have it fixed around?" 
 speculatively asked Christian. 
 
 "One thirty-nine," answered Permilla; "and it 's 
 as good as new. ' ' 
 
 "Who 's Abe?" Christian inquired. 
 
 "Oh," blushed Permilla, "Abe he 's why, he 's 
 AEe Schwarz that lives at Klupp's Church over." 
 
 "Was it him brought your hat with?" 
 
 184
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' briefly answered Permilla. ' ' You must n 't 
 mind the way things is tore up at our house, 
 Krist," she abruptly changed the subject. "We 're 
 repairing up the house and barn, and it gives such a 
 dirt." 
 
 Christian stared at her in astonishment. "You 're 
 repairin' up the house and barn?" he repeated in 
 credulously. 
 
 "Yes; we 're pretty good fixed now, Krist. When 
 pop died, his brother, my uncle Adam Gumpf, came 
 from Alaska home, and he give mom some money to 
 live on." 
 
 Christian's face beamed as he turned it upon Per 
 milla. 
 
 "Then your mom can buy you a aus styer yet, ain't 
 when you get married ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, yes," eagerly answered Permilla. 
 
 "Them 's pretty beads you 're wearin' on your 
 self, Permilla. Does the locket come open? Mebbe I 
 might give you a wisp of my hair to put in ain't?" 
 
 Permilla hastily covered the trinket with her little 
 brown hand. "It 's so funny to open, Krist; I don't 
 try, still, to open it." 
 
 "Permilla," Christian took her small hand in his 
 big clumsy one as they slowly strolled through the 
 orchard, "the first house that 's getting empty I 'm 
 renting." 
 
 185
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "Are you gettin' married too, Krist?" 
 
 '-Yes, Permilla," he answered, pressing the hand he 
 held. 
 
 "Who to, Krist?" Permilla inquired drawing away 
 her hand. 
 
 "A girl that lives wonderful clost by," facetiously 
 answered Krist, reaching to take her hand again ; but 
 she held it out of his reach. 
 
 "Is it Sallie Cougenhauer ? " 
 
 "No; it ain't Sallie Cougenhauer. Guess again, 
 Permilla!" 
 
 "If it ain't Ramah or Sallie, I don't know who 
 ever." 
 
 "There 's somebody better 'n either of them two, 
 Permilla!" 
 
 "Livin' clost by?" wonderingly asked Permilla. 
 
 "As clost as she otherwise could live." 
 
 "Why, Krist! there ain't no girl livin' nearer than 
 Sallie and Ramah." 
 
 "There 's yourself, Permilla!" 
 
 Christian gazed at her in triumph and shouted with 
 laughter. 
 
 "You 're goin' to be my girl, Permilla. I 'm mar- 
 ryin' you. I like you wonderful much. And I was 
 goin' to ast you before I knowed your Uncle Adam 
 was on and give yous all somepin' to live on." 
 
 "But, Krist" 
 
 186
 
 
 
 -f. 
 
 5 
 
 ;=- 
 
 B 
 g 
 3. 
 B 
 o 
 
 1
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 "How much is it your Uncle Adam give yous?" 
 "That 's neither here nor there, Krist, because " 
 "I ain't changin' my mind any if he don't give you 
 nothing" magnificently declared Christian. "I want 
 to get married to you right aways, no matter what 
 ever. ' ' 
 
 "Thank you, Krist, but" 
 
 ' ' How soon could you get ready to be married, Per 
 milla?" 
 
 "I am ready, Krist; I 'm getting married" 
 "Would n't you have to do some sewin' first?" 
 "It 's all done. I 'm gettin' married next Satur 
 days." 
 
 "I don't know if I can make it suit that quick 
 a 'ready, Permilla; but mebbe till next Saturdays a 
 week a 'ready." 
 
 "I 'm gettin' married next Saturdays, Krist." 
 "Och, well," said Christian, a little surprised, "if 
 you 're so set on Saturdays, I guess I can hurry. ' ' 
 
 "I '11 be pleased to have your comp'ny at my wed- 
 din', Krist." 
 
 Christian laughed at the joke. "It would be a 
 funny weddin' without the mister, ain't? Well, / 'II 
 be there, Permilla," he assured her jocosely. 
 
 "I 'm gettin' married next Saturdays a 'ready to 
 Abe Schwarz from Klupp 's Church over, ' ' firmly and 
 clearly announced Permilla. 
 
 189
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 Christian stopped short in the path leading up to 
 the house door. His face flamed red and his small 
 eyes sparkled like beads. 
 
 ''What 's that you sayed?" 
 
 "I 'm gettin' married to Abe Schwarz from 
 Klupp's Church over, next Saturdays." 
 
 "You 're promised to Abe Schwarz!" 
 
 "Yes, Krist" 
 
 Permilla stood before him in the patli and looked 
 at him with shy pride. 
 
 "Would n't you ruther have me, Permilla?" he 
 feebly inquired. 
 
 "I 'm wonderful fond of Abe, Krist. And he 's 
 so good fixed he '11 make me such a good provider. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," hoarsely granted Christian; "he 's wonder 
 ful well fixed even better 'n me. Who 'd o ' thought, " 
 he added, in growing amazement, "that Abe Schwarz 
 would be makin' up to you? Why, he could have 
 'most anybody good fixed like what he is and so ed 
 ucated yet ! I 'd o' thought he would n't have no one 
 But an Ann-wille graduate!" 
 
 "He 'd ruther have me," with humble pride an 
 swered Permilla. 
 
 "But, Permilla, you would of had me of I 'd spoke 
 soon enough ain't it so, you would?" 
 
 "Well, Krist," she timidly answered, "two months 
 back a 'ready I might of, mebbe. But I heard since 
 
 190
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 how you was so near that way with your money, and 
 how your pop and mom was always so good to you and 
 did n't never make you mind, but give you every will, 
 and that made you so conceity by yourself that you 
 was n 't easy to live with no more. And I says to my 
 self, 'Them things don't bring happiness.' And then 
 I did n 't think so much about you no more, Krist, like 
 what I used to still. And then, to be sure, when Abe 
 begin to come and keep comp 'ny with me, I liked him 
 so well and I felt so wonderful satisfied that nothin' 
 else did n't make nothin' to me." 
 
 "Do you mean you would n't have me even if 
 you was n 't promised to Abe Schwarz ? ' ' asked Chris 
 tian, unsteadily. 
 
 "No, Krist, I would n't," firmly answered Per 
 milla. "I 'm sorry for you, Krist. I hope it don't 
 hurt you in your feelin's. But but I took such a 
 kreistled (disgusted) feeling toward you." 
 
 Christian caught his breath; but, before he could 
 answer, Permilla started with a sudden exclamation 
 as the distant sound of buggy wheels fell on the 
 evening stillness. 
 
 "Och, here comes Abe's Euggy the road up! Will 
 you come in and see him, Krist, for a minute?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Won't you wait and bid Ab'e the time?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 1Q1
 
 The Narrow Escape of Permilla 
 
 Christian turned his back on her and walked out 
 of the gate. 
 
 Permilla watched his broad-shouldered figure dis 
 appear into the dimness of the long pike, feeling with 
 a great throbbing of her heart what a different fate 
 would have been hers if he had asked her to marry 
 him "two months back," when her feelings toward 
 him had been so different. 
 
 "Abe Schwarz will make me so much better a pro 
 vider and he 's so much nicer a person ! ' ' exultingly 
 thought Permilla. 
 
 And Christian, going home in the summer twilight, 
 fully realized, for the first time in his young man 
 hood, that the feminine mind held a view of Christian 
 Yundt and his value in the matrimonial market quite 
 other than that which he himself had been falsely 
 cherishing ever since the day on which he had first 
 touched a razor to his sleek, self-satisfied countenance. 
 
 192
 
 THE COURTING OF PEARLY
 
 THE COURTING OF 
 PEARLY 
 
 IT was beginning to be "put out" in Stumpstown 
 that Pearly Schwenkf elder was "promised" to 
 Adam Hoofstitler, and as gossip in Stumpstown trav 
 eled fast it soon reached the ears of even Simon Flick, 
 who, though only a young man in his twenties, min 
 gled so little with his fellow villagers and so strictly 
 "minded to his own business," that much of the vil 
 lage news was apt to pass him by. 
 
 This item came to Simon with a sharp sting. 
 
 He found it impossible, the afternoon that he heard 
 the news, to work in his blacksmith shop. With what 
 appeared to his apprentice an alarming recklessness, 
 he announced, an hour after his return to the shop, 
 that he was going out for a while and would leave the 
 apprentice alone in charge of the business ; and then, 
 flinging himself outdoors, he strode down the road 
 as fast as his slightly lame foot would allow him to go. 
 
 To know that Pearly was "promised" to another 
 
 195
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 man was anguish enough. But to know that the man 
 was Adam Hoofstitler was nothing short of madden 
 ing. For Pearly 's own sake, because Simon loved 
 her, he would save her from a union so fatal to her 
 happiness to the happiness of any woman. But 
 mingled with the passion of his love for her was an 
 other passion almost as fierce his detestation of 
 Adam. . 
 
 It had begun away back in their school-days, when 
 Adam, who was the bully of the school, used to make 
 pretty little Pearly cry by taunting Simon with his 
 "game leg" and then, right in Simon's presence, seiz 
 ing Pearly and kissing her until her tears were 
 turned to laughter. Sometimes Simon's rage would 
 get the better of his prudence, and he would try to 
 fight Adam, who was twice his size. Of course, poor 
 Simon always came out beaten. Once, a quarrel that 
 had been entirely provoked by Adam led to Simon's 
 suspension from school for a month, because, Adam's 
 father being a school-director, the teacher felt it pru 
 dent to take his part. 
 
 A climax had come one night at a party to which 
 Simon had escorted Pearly when she was a blooming, 
 bewitching maiden of sixteen. Simon at that time 
 had been too poor to hire a sleigh to take her to the 
 party, but he and Pearly, who was very fond of him, 
 had enjoyed the moonlight walk over the crisp snow 
 
 196
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 with all the keenness of their youth. It was when the 
 party was over and she and Simon were stepping out 
 of the house to walk home together, both of them with 
 sweet anticipations of the pleasure of their long, 
 moonlight walk, that Adam had suddenly come up 
 behind them and with a roar of laughter thrust Simon 
 roughly aside, lifted Pearly bodily in his arms, set 
 her in his own sleigh, and driven off with her. Simon 
 had slipped on the ice when Adam pushed him and 
 had given his lame foot a wrench that had made his 
 almost unnoticeable lameness conspicuous for the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 For many days after this party Simon, laid up with 
 his injured foot and kept from the work by which he 
 supported his widowed mother and himself, waited 
 in vain for some word of apology or regret from 
 Pearly. He rose from his bed at the end of a month, 
 a hardened and a bitter man, in the very flush of his 
 young manhood. 
 
 This stolid moroseness, with which, after many 
 years, he had become impregnated, left even himself 
 deceived as to the passions still alive in him until a 
 revelation of himself was made to him in the news of 
 Adam's betrothal to Pearly. 
 
 "Mebbe it ain't so, fur all !" he was saying to him 
 self as he strode up the village street, in the warm 
 April afternoon, his head hanging forward, his hands 
 
 197
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 clasped behind him. "How could Pearly look fur 
 happiness married to him she knows how ugly-dis- 
 positioned he is!" 
 
 A heavy footstep on the otherwise noiseless street 
 made him look up to see Adam himself coming 
 toward him. In his customary blustering tone, Adam 
 hailed him : 
 
 ''Hello, Game-leg! What are you starin' at? I 
 hope you '11 mebbe know me next time you see me ! ' ' 
 
 Simon found himself strangely impervious to-day to 
 the taunt which in his sensitive boyhood had so tor 
 tured him. As he walked on up the street, he con 
 tinued to consider, heavily, what there was in Adam 
 that could attract Pearly. 
 
 "He 's a good-looker," he acknowledged to himself 
 with an icy chill at his heart as he thought of his own 
 maimed member and of his general physical inferior 
 ity to the stalwart, broad-shouldered Adam. "And, 
 to be sure, that makes somepin, ' too, to a girl as much 
 as it does to a man if a girl 's a good-looker. And 
 he 's well fixed. He 'd purvide good fur her. Bet 
 ter 'n me fur all I 'm well fixed, too, now. But I 
 was n't till a little while back yet, and Adam he al 
 ways was. If I thought there was any chanct fur 
 me, I 'd try to cut him out, even yet ! ' ' 
 
 His steps had led him half unconsciously toward 
 Pearly 's home. He had never looked at or spoken to 
 
 198
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 her since that night she had been snatched from him 
 at the party, but he knew to-day that his boyish love 
 for her had never died, and that she was the only 
 woman in the world whom he would ever want to 
 marry. 
 
 Pearly was the only child of the people who 
 kept the station restaurant and the village grocery 
 store. 
 
 As Simon reached the sidewalk in front of Mr. 
 Schwenkf elder's yellow frame house, his ear was 
 caught and thrilled by the sound of Pearly 's voice 
 singing in the front room to an accompaniment on 
 her cabinet organ. He stopped short and listened. 
 
 "When the pearly gates unfold 
 for you and me ! " 
 
 were the words which floated to him from the "best 
 front room." 
 
 "I '11 go in oncet and get a plate of ice-cream or 
 what ! " he resolved with a thumping of his heart that 
 fairly made his knees shake. 
 
 The restaurant opened into the parlor where Pearly 
 sat, and he could see her plump, pretty figure at the 
 organ as he took his place at one of the oil-cloth cov 
 ered tables of the small eating-room. 
 
 There were no other customers present. The 
 "hired girl" who was in attendance came at once to 
 
 199
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 take his order. Simon looked about at the printed 
 signs which covered the walls : 
 
 ' ' Sarsaparilla, five cents"; "Ginger-ale, five 
 cents"; "Ice-cream, five and ten cents"; "Oyster 
 stews, fifteen cents"; "Ham and X, twenty cents." 
 
 The last sign was a concession to the Pennsylvania 
 Dutch pronunciation of "ham and eggs." 
 
 "I '11 take a glass of sassaf arilla, ' ' he said. 
 
 While he waited, his eyes feasting upon the uncon 
 scious object of his ardor, Pearly struck up another 
 song. The quite heartrending words were warbled 
 to an accompaniment that was inappropriately 
 jaunty. The song tragically told of the early death 
 of a maiden whose lover, in his despairing grief, pined 
 away and shortly followed her to "her tomb in the 
 walley." 
 
 "In the walley, in the walley!" 
 
 Pearly shrilly sang the chorus: 
 
 "In the walley they laid him by her side!" 
 
 Perhaps Pearly felt the intensity of thought and 
 emotion directed to her from Simon's excited mind, 
 for she suddenly stopped short, turned on the red 
 plush organ-stool, and fully met his gaze fixed upon 
 her from the room beyond. 
 
 Her face went pale as she saw him. For an instant 
 
 2OO
 
 " Pearly struck up another song"
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 she hesitated, while Simon's eyes seemed to hold her 
 spellbound. Then suddenly she rose, came quickly 
 forward, and entered the eating-room. There was a 
 bright look of excitement in her face and a soft de 
 light about the smile of her full lips that made Si 
 mon's head swim. 
 
 "Why, Si! Did you come oncet!" she exclaimed, 
 seating herself opposite him, leaning her elbows on 
 the table and her cheeks on the back of her hands. ' ' I 
 think it can't be! You 're a wonderful stranger! 
 Ain't you are?" 
 
 "I felt fur a drink of sassafarilla, it 's such a hot 
 day," said Simon, growing red with his embarrass 
 ment in explaining his presence. 
 
 He sipped his glass to cover his sense of awkward 
 ness. Every nerve in him was tingling with delight 
 at Pearly 's nearness. Sh,e did not speak again at 
 once, b"ut sat looking at him in silence. What should 
 he say to her? What had he really come here for? 
 Was there any least use in the world of his trying to 
 cut out Adam Hoofstitler at this late stage of the 
 game? That look of pleasure with which she had 
 come forward to greet him could he dare to take 
 hope from it? 
 
 Pearly made a slight restless movement in her chair, 
 and a fear seized him that she would rise and leave 
 him. 
 
 "I did n't know, Pearly, that you 'd learned to 
 
 203
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 play and sing so good," he quickly said. "You 're 
 a wonderful pretty singer." 
 
 "Yes, I know a good bit about music. I took 
 twenty-four lessons fur five dollars off the Evangel 
 ical preacher 's daughter. ' ' 
 
 "I like to hear you sing, 'When the pearly gates.' 
 It minds me of you!'' 
 
 "Do you think? Because my name 's Pearly, 
 ain't?" she asked, smiling and blushing. "You al 
 ways was so fond fur my name, still, ain't you was, 
 Si? Pop, too," she nodded. "Pop he give me my 
 name. He seen it oncet in such a 'Family Story 
 Paper,' and he always thought such a heap of that 
 name ! ' ' 
 
 "I, too," said Simon. 
 
 "It 's a wonder, Si, you could be away from work 
 in the middle of the day yet ! ' ' Pearly remarked. 
 
 "I ain't got much time," said Simon confusedly. 
 "What time it is, Pearly?" 
 
 She drew a tiny gold watch from her bosom and 
 held it toward him. "It 's half past twelf." 
 
 "Well," said Simon, "I don't have to get back till 
 a half hour a 'ready. Did your pop give you that 
 wonderful handsome watch, Pearly?" he asked; for 
 all Stumpstown knew that, to her father, Pearly, his 
 only child, was the very core of his heart, and that he 
 delighted to "spend on her." 
 
 2O4
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "N no," answered Pearly, her eyes falling. "I 
 I came by this watch." 
 
 She did not need to explain. Adam Hoofstitler 
 had surely given her the watch. 
 
 "Last Sundays, Si," she hastily added, "I thought 
 I have saw you walk on the cemetery. Was it you? 
 I was there with I was walking on the cemetery, 
 too ' ' ; she changed her statement with a self-conscious 
 look and tone that made Simon's heart sink lower. 
 
 "Yes, I was walkin* on the cemetery," he dully 
 answered. "I did n't take notice to you walkin' 
 there." 
 
 "Did you come on a funeral, Si?" 
 
 "No, I just come so." 
 
 "I thought you mebbe had came on the funeral of 
 that party where was ninety-nine years old and was 
 brought from Bethlehem over. I seen the remains. 
 There was nothin ' but skin and bones at him ! ' ' 
 
 "Now think!" said Simon. 
 
 "Indeed, yes!" sighed Pearly. "It used to make 
 me feel funny to look at them awful thin remains ! ' ' 
 
 "It was a pity of him," said Simon perfunctorily. 
 
 The topic was neither savory nor fruitful, and 
 conversation here flagged a trifle. 
 
 Simon wrestled with a desperate temptation to put 
 his fate to an immediate test, demand of Pearly 
 whether she were really "promised" to Adam, and 
 
 205
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 discover at once whether she could give him any 
 hope. 
 
 1 ' You 're lookin ' well, Si. Only a little older, ' ' the 
 girl remarked. 
 
 "You 're lookin' good, too, Pearly. Only I can't 
 say you 're lookin' any older. Say, Pearly!" 
 
 "What, Si?" 
 
 "Why did n't you never write to me when I was 
 laid up after that party where Adam Hoofstitler 
 fetched you away from me?" 
 
 Pearly 's fair face and neck flushed a deep pink as 
 she gazed at him with wide eyes of surprise. 
 
 "Si, I was just a-goin' to ast you why you never 
 come to see me or ast fur me when I had so sick after 
 that there sleigh-ride with Adam ! ' ' 
 
 "7 never heard you had sick, Pearly!" 
 
 ' ' I had sick of typhoid fever. It was the day after 
 the party, and I believe I was washing dishes, or what 
 I was doing when I got it so in my head ! I went to 
 bed, and the doctor he did n't know what it would 
 give yet, but till a day or two it give typhoid fever. 
 I had to do seven weeks with it, and it turned me all 
 over! And when I got some better, the first thing I 
 ast was if Si was here ever. And when they sayed 
 no, only Adam, and they sayed how all the time I had 
 sick, Adam he was so kind that way then I did n't 
 know what to think no more !" 
 
 2O6
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "Pearly! I never knowed you had sick! I was 
 laid up with my foot, and no person never tole me 
 you had the fever ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' Now, Si! ' ' Pearly half gasped. ' ' You don 't mean 
 to say you never knowed ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' Pearly ! ' ' called a voice from the grocery store on 
 the other side of the eating-room, "what you do?" 
 
 It was the voice of her father, and it was followed 
 by his portly appearance in the doorway. 
 
 "What you do, Pearly?" 
 
 "Nothin', pop." 
 
 "Well, then," he jocularly admonished her, "stop 
 
 it!" 
 
 t 
 
 He roared with laughter at his own wit as he stood 
 in his shirt-sleeves, his fat palms resting on his hips, 
 his red cheeks shaking with his mirth. 
 
 "Why, Si!" he exclaimed in surprise as he recog 
 nized the young man. "What brung you along 
 yet?" 
 
 Simon felt, in Mr. Schwenkf elder 's surprised greet 
 ing, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment in his 
 fear lest the purpose of his visit be manifest to 
 Pearly 's father. Could he once be persuaded that 
 she cared more for him than for Adam, he would 
 brave her father, Adam, and all the village in his en 
 deavors to win her. But so long as he was in doubt, 
 his confusion and timidity ruled him. 
 
 207
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "It gets late on me, and I must go," he said, rising 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Well, good-by, Si," said Pearly, a wistful note in 
 her voice that set his pulse to bounding. He lifted 
 his downcast eyes and looked at her. 
 
 "Mebbe I might come, a little while after supper, 
 down," he suggested. "Would my comp'ny be ac 
 ceptable, Pearly?" 
 
 "I 'd enjoy your comp'ny much, Si," she blush- 
 ingly answered. 
 
 "Ain't you lookin' fur Adam Hoofstitler over?" 
 he blurted out. 
 
 "He he has to go up behind Reading this after," 
 she faltered. 
 
 "And when the cat 's away the mice '11 play, heh?" 
 hilariously shouted Mr. Schwenkf elder. "Ain't, 
 
 sir' 
 
 Simon hardly knew, as, only half conscious of the 
 ground under his feet, he limped homeward, whether 
 he ought to feel elated or discouraged at Pearly 's in 
 vitation, since it was given because Adam would be 
 out of town. Was Pearly only wanting to trifle with 
 him? Just what it might signify as to Pearly 's true 
 sentiments, Simon pondered heavily all the rest of the 
 day, until at nightfall he again found himself, with 
 alternate hope and misgiving, walking up the village 
 street toward Schwenkf elder 's restaurant. 
 
 208
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 Pearly was sitting on the front porch, most fetch- 
 ingly dressed in a white frock with pink ribbons 
 on it. 
 
 "I 'm that glad to see you, Si!" she greeted him; 
 "come here and set down on the porch, side by 
 each!" 
 
 "I brung you a present, Pearly," Simon boldly 
 plunged in when he had taken the chair at her side. 
 "Will you accept it off of me?" 
 
 "Oh, Si! I don't know if I had ought to. What 
 fur present is it?" she inquired, with eyes of eager 
 curiosity on the package in his hand. 
 
 This "present" was a test on Simon's part. If she 
 accepted it from him, she was surely not "promised" 
 to another. Such an act would be counted by 
 Stumpstown standards as nothing short of stealing. 
 It would be getting goods on false pretenses. 
 
 Simon removed the wrapping paper and brought 
 forth a large volume, the title of which appeared in 
 gilt letters on the brown imitation-of-leather cover. 
 
 Hoses and Thorns of Paris and London. 
 
 That Lessons may be learned therefrom, 
 
 Influencing to Shun Evil and Admire 
 
 Virtue. 
 
 "I bought it off of such a agent last week," he ex- 
 2O9
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 plained; "and to-night I conceited I 'd fetch it with 
 and give it a present to you, Pearly. It 's got pic 
 tures all through. It cost me four ninety-eight." 
 
 "Now, think!" cried Pearly admiringly. "I never 
 had a book where cost that much. It 's wonderful 
 handsome, Si; Saddy!" (Thank you.) 
 
 ' ' I 'm glad you like it, Pearly. ' ' 
 
 "I like it wonderful, Si." 
 
 "Then ain't you promised to Adam Hoofstitler, 
 Pearly?" 
 
 Simon's heart beat thick in his breast as he asked 
 the crucial question. 
 
 Pearly started and blushed very red in her confu 
 sion. 
 
 "I ain't just to say promised, Si. But but we 're 
 in with each other wonderful thick. ' ' 
 
 "But you ain't promised?" 
 
 "No not just to say that. But," she faltered, 
 her eyes downcast, "it ain't because Adam ain't ast 
 me often enough. ' ' 
 
 "Pearly! Is it that you won't have him, or 
 what?" 
 
 "I won't do it to say to him if I will or no. But 
 to be sure, me and Adam, us we 're awful well ac 
 quainted together that way. And in January I get 
 twenty years old, and now pop and mom they say it 's 
 time I marry oncet ! ' ' 
 
 21O
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "And why won't you say yes to Adam?" Simon 
 asked huskily. 
 
 Pearly looked down and outlined with her fingers 
 the letters on her book. 
 
 "I have a many reasons." 
 
 "Won't you tell 'em off to me?" Simon pleaded. 
 
 "I don't think it would be nice in me to talk down 
 on Adam as long as I leave him keep comp'ny with 
 me." 
 
 "Is it that you don't know right what you do want, 
 or whatever?" 
 
 "Well, Si," answered Pearly, leaning a little nearer 
 to him and lowering her voice confidentially, "some 
 times I say to myself, ' I sure won 't do it. ' And then 
 again when Adam he plagues me so to have him, I 
 don't know what to think. But I pass it as my opin 
 ion a girl ought not to engage till she 's sure." 
 
 "Don't you like him good enough?" 
 
 "I 'm afraid, Si, sometimes I don't. Then again 
 sometimes I think I could stand him pretty good fur 
 all he 's so hard to do with and so ugly-dispositioned ! 
 And through the nose he talks and that kreistles 
 (disgusts) me. And he 's so jealous I darsent never 
 even talk with other ones !" 
 
 "Is it is it that you mebbe like someone else, 
 Pearly?" Simon ventured. 
 
 Pearly nervously fingered her book and did not at 
 
 211
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 once answer. But at last, without looking up, she 
 said in a low voice : 
 
 "Mebbe that is it. I I never could forget you, Si, 
 and how much me and you enjoyed ourselves to be to 
 gether!" 
 
 "Pearly!" Simon leant forward and clasped her 
 hand. "Look at here! You give Adam the go-by 
 and be my girl!" 
 
 "Oh, Si!" murmured Pearly, tears in her voice, 
 "it don't look nice if I travel with you now, after 
 Adam ! I 'd sooner have you, Si, 'deed I would but 
 it don't do! It gives bad feelings to break away 
 from your steady comp'ny like that. I would n't 
 know how to do it." 
 
 "I '11 easy tell you how, Pearly! "When is Adam 
 eomin' to set up with you again?" 
 
 "Monday dinners he comes, on his way to work, and 
 sets an hour. ' ' 
 
 "Well, you just tell him, when he comes, how you 
 made up with Simon Flick, and you 're goin' to keep 
 comp'ny now with him, and Adam he should go on 
 home and stay. That 's the way you can do it. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, Si, he would n't listen on me. And I would 
 n't half do that I would n't half send him home 
 when me and him 's been keepin' comp'ny so long 
 a 'ready!" 
 
 "Then let it to me. I '11 go to see him and tell 
 
 212
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 him!" Simon eagerly suggested, scenting a fore 
 taste of his enjoyment in such a triumph over his 
 hated, life-long tormentor and enemy. 
 
 "I would n't risk leavin' you do that !" said Pearly. 
 "Adam, he 'd most likely up and fight you! You 
 see, Si, no one can't easy get over (get ahead of) 
 Adam he 's so strong and so quick-dispositioned. 
 Oh!" 
 
 This sudden outcry was occasioned by the appear 
 ance at the porch steps of none other than the re 
 doubtable Adam himself. 
 
 He was not dressed in his ' ' Sunday suit, ' ' in which 
 a young man of Stumpstown must always be clad 
 when he calls on a young lady ; he wore his every-day 
 clothes and carried a small valise. 
 
 "Well, Pearly! I conceited I 'd stop on my way 
 home and see how you was. I got home earlier than 
 what I thought for. ' ' 
 
 He had mounted three of the four porch steps be 
 fore he recognized the man who was sitting beside 
 Pearly, for the evening had grown dark while Simon 
 and Pearly had been talking together. 
 
 "Well, I 'm blamed, if it ain't Si Flick!" he ex 
 claimed. "Hello, Club-foot, what are you doin' 
 here?" 
 
 Simon Flick did not wince. He felt the cherished 
 animosity of years fail him utterly. 
 
 213
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 Neither he nor Pearly made any answer to 
 Adam. 
 
 "Well it 's time you limped along home, Si," 
 Adam instructed him, "and give up your chair to 
 me. I don't know what you 're doin' anyhow, settin' 
 here with Pearly ! Go on, now ! ' ' 
 
 Simon leaned hack comfortably in his chair and 
 fitted together the tips of his fingers. He did not 
 speak. 
 
 "Do you hear?" cried Adam. "Pearly, shall I 
 chase him off?" he half jocularly, half angrily asked. 
 His tone expressed his perplexity at the silence of 
 both of them. 
 
 "Adam Hoofstitler, " Pearly answered him quietly, 
 Hut with an unaccustomed force in her manner, ' ' you 'd 
 better chase yourself off if you can't treat my friend 
 civil. Si was always my friend since I was a little 
 girl yet, and you sha 'n 't affront him here ! ' ' 
 
 "He ain't been your friend fur as much as four 
 years back a 'ready!" Adam contradicted her, 
 amazement getting the better of his usually ready 
 anger at opposition. 
 
 "But he would of been if it had n't been fur you, 
 Adam. I did n't know how you made him fall, and 
 how he was laid up all the time I had sick and it was 
 all your doin 's ! " 
 
 "So them 's the things Simon 's been settin' here 
 
 214
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 tellin' you, heh? Well, Pearly," he sarcastically sug 
 gested, "you better choose right now which of us two 
 you '11 have then." 
 
 ' ' Pearly ! ' ' Simon here became articulate. ' ' Here 's 
 your chanct. Choose between us now! Pearly, I 
 pass you my word, if you choose me, I '11 never in 
 all our lives together do anything to make you sorry 
 you choosed me. I '11 use you as good as I other 
 wise can, Pearly ! ' ' 
 
 "Is the feller went crazy as well as club-footed?" 
 cried Adam. "Pearly, what 's he talkin' anyhow?" 
 
 Pearly rose from her chair, and Simon quickly 
 stood at her side. The girl laid her hand on his arm. 
 "I choose you, Simon. And Adam, here 's your 
 watch back again. ' ' 
 
 She took out her little gold timepiece and held it 
 toward her rejected lover. 
 
 He did not take it. For an instant he glared at her, 
 his eyes shining in the dimness with a concentrated 
 anger that made her tremble, but before which she did 
 not quail. 
 
 Suddenly his face apoplectic with rage he made 
 a dash at Simon. But Simon had been watching for 
 this had he not known Adam Hoofstitler all his life 
 long? and having the advantage of standing a step 
 higher on the porch than his antagonist, he met his 
 onslaught with a quick, parrying blow which, taking 
 
 215
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 Adam by surprise, hurled him backward to the pave 
 ment. 
 
 Instantly, however, he was on his feet again, and 
 now, quite beside himself with fury, he rushed a sec 
 ond time upon Simon. Pearly, recklessly obeying 
 her instinct to protect her chosen lover, stepped in 
 front of him before he could prevent her and it 
 was she who received Adam 's blow ! 
 
 It would have struck her to the floor had not Simon 
 caught her as she fell. Adam, heedless of his outrage 
 to the girl, seized Simon by his collar to hurl him off 
 when he found himself grasped by the strong hand 
 of Pearly 's father. 
 
 "What you mean, doin' somepin' like this?" de 
 manded Mr. Schwenkfelder furiously, his face crim 
 son with mingled alarm for his daughter and anger 
 at the man whom he had seen strike the blow. 
 
 "I did n't go to hit Pearly you might know!" 
 growled Adam, trying to shake himself free of 
 Schwenkf elder's hand on his collar. But big and 
 strong as Adam was, Mr. Schwenkfelder was his 
 match. 
 
 "And when you 'd hit her, 'stead of bein' con 
 cerned fur her, you just kep' on tryin' to fight Simon, 
 you coward! Well, this here settles you! I never 
 did like you anyways, with your bullyin', braggin' 
 ways! You can just take yourself off! and double 
 quick, too, or I '11 set the dog on you ! ' ' 
 
 2l6
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "Ezra Schwenkf elder !" protested Adam, his own 
 anger cooled before this unexpected encounter with 
 Pearly 's father; "you '11 sure think better of this 
 here till morning a 'ready; you 're some mad and 
 don't know right what you 're sayin'! I 'm sorry if 
 I hurt Pearly!" 
 
 He turned to the girl, whom Simon had helped to 
 her chair. She was white and trembling, and her 
 childish eyes were fixed upon Adam with fear and 
 aversion. 
 
 * 'Pearly! I 'm wonderful sorry this here happened ! 
 It 's all because this here Simon Flick ' ' 
 
 "That 's like your cowardness!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Schwenkf elder disgustedly, "to be blamin' someone 
 else fur your own bullyin' and bruteness!" 
 
 "I always knowed," panted Pearly, "that some 
 day you 'd hit me, Adam! I felt you would some 
 day ! But I sure never conceited you 'd do it before 
 we was married a 'ready!" 
 
 "Clear out here, I tell you!" commanded Mr. 
 Schwenkf elder, "and good riddance! I seen enough 
 of you just now to make me know you ain't marryin' 
 our Pearly if I can help!" 
 
 Adam, obeying perforce, turned his back on them 
 all and stalked away. 
 
 An hour later Pearly, quite herself again after her 
 fright, stood at the porch steps bidding Simon good 
 night. 
 
 217
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 "Pearly!" he breathed ecstatically as he held both 
 her hands in his, "to-night I done what I conceited 
 to do since that night four years back, when Adam 
 Hoofstitler spited me so wonderful by taking you 
 away from me and carrying you home in his sleigh ! ' ' 
 
 "What was it, Si, that you 'd conceited to do?" 
 Pearly shyly asked, prepared to feast on his honeyed 
 words of long devotion to herself. 
 
 "I always conceited that no matter how long I 'd 
 have to wait, I 'd some time get back at Adam Hoof 
 stitler fur what he done to me ! And to-night I have 
 got back at him. To-night I 've did what I set out 
 to do four years back and have thought about every 
 day since! But I 've did even better 'n I planned 
 fur, I Ve took his girl off him! I never thought 
 I could get that good a spite at him! And now," Si 
 mon added in deep-toned satisfaction, "I 'm con 
 tented!" 
 
 Pearly drew her hands from his and stepped back, 
 her eyes fastened upon Simon with much the look 
 of fear and aversion which she had turned upon 
 Adam when she had sent him about his business an 
 hour before. 
 
 "So that 's what you come here fur to-day!" she 
 breathed. "That 's what you made love to me fur 
 and ast me to be your girl ! so 's you could get your 
 spite out of Adam! Not because you loved me, but 
 
 2l8
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 because you wanted to get me loosed of Adam to spite 
 him! Well, Simon Flick, you was wonderful dumb 
 to tell me fur now I 'd sooner be six old maids as 
 marry you! I 'd sooner marry Adam than a man 
 that ast me to marry him just so 's to spite another 
 man!" 
 
 "But, Pearly-" 
 
 She had turned and rushed into the house before 
 he could stop her. 
 
 Simon stood confounded. His head swam with the 
 effect of this sudden revulsion of his joy to alarm 
 and grief. "What had he done? What had hap 
 pened? Pearly lost to him! She would "sooner 
 marry Adam. ' ' Simon passed his hand over his head 
 and staggered down the street. 
 
 During a long, sleepless night he wrestled with his 
 trouble. How could he make it right with Pearly 
 and win her back? He realized that when on the 
 next morning Adam should go to her in all the confi 
 dence of his strong self-esteem, she would most likely, 
 in her disappointment in himself, take back her re 
 jected lover; and yet, Simon knew that the pain he 
 suffered in the thought of this was all for the loss of 
 Pearly and scarcely at all for the triumph of Adam. 
 Had he not then misrepresented himself to Pearly? 
 Was his heart really so black with unchristian 
 "spite" as he had himself supposed it to be? If he 
 
 219
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 could prove to Pearly that it was not! then all 
 might even yet be well with him unless his proof, 
 coming after her reconciliation with Adam, was too 
 late. 
 
 Next morning, as early as propriety would permit, 
 Simon went to see Pearly. But it was as he had 
 feared. He was too late. Adam was there ahead of 
 him. The " hired girl" who answered his knock on 
 the door told him so and handed him a folded sheet 
 of paper. 
 
 Simon unfolded the paper and read: 
 
 " Friend. I don't never want to see you no more, 
 Simon, after what you spoke to me last night. 
 
 "PEARLY SCHWENKFELDER. " 
 
 The note crushed in his hand, Simon turned away, 
 his face ashy. 
 
 But as the house door closed behind him, the res 
 taurant door next to it opened, and Mr. Schwenkfel- 
 der stepped out. 
 
 "Si! I want to speak somepin' to you!" 
 
 "What does Adam Hoofstitler mean, sneakin' 
 'round here after what you sayed to him last night?" 
 desperately demanded Simon. 
 
 "Yes, ain't!" vigorously nodded Mr. Schwenkf el 
 der. "Well, he did n't take me serious. He thought 
 
 22O
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 I M be over it till this morning a 'ready. But I 
 meant it all right ! I never did like him and his mas 
 terful ways. Missus she says, too, she 'd be better 
 satisfied if Pearly took someone else. Missus she 
 never did like Adam. ' ' 
 
 "And now are yous leavin' him come back to 
 Pearly again after what passed between yous last 
 night?" 
 
 "Well, Adam he come here this morning as if 
 nothin' had happened, and he sayed he 'd come to ast 
 a favor off of me, and he sayed he had the chanct to 
 git the post-office of Stumpstown at three hundred 
 dollars per annum by the year, if he could get a party 
 to go on his bond fur one thousand dollars. Well, I 
 sayed I would n't do it to go on his bond, fur I did 
 that way oncet fur a man in a bank, and I lost. And 
 I passed my promise then to missus I 'd never do it 
 no more. Adam he did n 't know no person else to ast. 
 It ain't much people in Stumpstown has prop'ty to 
 that amount, you know. Adam he 's a good bit spited 
 at me. But he kep ' it down on account of his wantin ' 
 Pearly so bad." 
 
 Simon was staring at him with a strange gleam in 
 his eyes the look of a man who sees a vision. He 
 did not speak. 
 
 Mr. Schwenkfelder regarded him in perplexity. 
 "What 's ailin' you, Si?" he demanded, nudging him 
 
 221
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 with his elbow to arrest his attention. "You look like 
 as if you was seein' things!" 
 
 "Pearly and Adam 's in the parlor, ain't?" Simon 
 huskily asked. 
 
 "Yes, what d' you want, Si?" 
 
 "Leave me speak to 'em. I ain't raisin' no dis 
 turbance. ' ' 
 
 "You ain't, mebbe. But Adam is if he sees you, 
 and I ain't havin' Pearly no more excited!" 
 
 "I 'm not a-goin' to excite her. I 'm a-goin' to 
 make her peaceable." 
 
 "What are you goin' to do?" 
 
 "You can come with and see," answered Simon, 
 walking past the hesitating landlord into the house. 
 Adam and Pearly were seated together on a haircloth 
 sofa. Pearly 's face was white, and her eyes down 
 cast, and Adam was in an attitude of earnest expos 
 tulation. The pair looked up in startled surprise. 
 Pearly 's white face grew flushed, and her lifeless eyes 
 flashed upon Simon. Adam eyed the leading intruder 
 aggressively. 
 
 Simon walked straight up to the sofa. 
 
 "Adam Hoofstitler" he spoke in a tone of quiet 
 dignity ' ' I come in here to say I 'd go on your bond 
 fur you. I tole Pearly last night how I felt spiteful 
 to you, and she throwed me over because of it. Now 
 I 'm here to prove to her that my spite died out be- 
 
 222
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 fore the sorrow of losing her. I ain't got no mean 
 feelin's to you now, and I 'm provin' it by offerin' to 
 risk the loss of them thousand dollars. Pearly!" he 
 besought the girl, "will this prove to you that I love 
 you true and honest and with all my heart ? ' ' 
 
 The flash in Pearly 's eyes had changed to a soft 
 glow. She rose from the sofa and laid her hand on 
 Simon's arm. 
 
 "This is more 'n I 'd ast you to do, Si, to prove 
 your love! I thought from the way you spoke last 
 night it was only spite to him and not love to me that 
 brung you to see me. I know different now, and 
 that 's all that matters me anything. You have no 
 need to go on Adam's bond. If I 'm to marry you, 
 Si, I 'm sure I 'd sooner you 'd not risk that 
 much!" 
 
 "It would easy-up my conscience if I done it," Si 
 mon responded. ' ' It always troubled me a heap, still, 
 how spiteful I could n't help feelin' to Adam, and it 
 kep' me from joinin' on to church. I knowed them 
 feelin's I had to him was n't right, but 'I could n't 
 seem to help havin' 'em, and I did n't want to help 
 it, neither! I can't take credit fur actin' good to 
 Adam now, fur my mean feelin's to him is all gone, 
 and it ain't no struggle to me. You see, Pearly, the 
 power of love to cast out the devil ! ' ' 
 
 He clasped her hand in both his own, and the look 
 
 223
 
 The Courting of Pearly 
 
 in their faces made Mr. Schwenkfelder modestly turn 
 his back. 
 
 "Come on out of here, Adam me and you ain't in 
 it!" he exclaimed. "Good luck to you, Simon!" he 
 called over his shoulder. "I 'm satisfied all right!" 
 
 "Look a-here, Pearly!" Adam, who had been sit 
 ting dumfounded, at last found voice to interpose. 
 "I ain't takin' his offer of his bond, and I ain't 
 leavin' him take my girl off me if I have to lame his 
 other leg fur " 
 
 ' ' Here ! ' ' wrathf ully exclaimed Mr. Schwenkfelder, 
 turning about and facing him, "you shut up that kind 
 of talk, do you hear ? And come on out of here ! I 'm 
 glad Simon turned up to cut you out! You never 
 suited me fur no son-in-law. Now, out of here ! ' ' 
 
 Adam wavered only an instant, for, like all bullies, 
 he was a coward. 
 
 "And mind you," warned Mr. Schwenkfelder as 
 he followed him out of the room, "you give Si any 
 trouble, and you '11 answer to me I '11 kick you 
 good if you touch him! Yes, and if I hear of you 
 callin' your cowardly names after him! Now you 
 mind if I don't!" 
 
 The parlor door closed sharply behind them. And 
 Simon and Pearly were alone. 
 
 224
 
 THE DISCIPLINING OF 
 MATHIAS
 
 THE DISCIPLINING OF 
 MATHIAS 
 
 MATHIAS BUCKHOLTER'S wife had been 
 dead fourteen months, and now, in the spring 
 of the year, though he was not a young man, his fancy 
 was lightly turning to thoughts of love, the object, or 
 objects, of his tender consideration being the two 
 Ebenshade girls at the farm across the road from his 
 own. He had had them in mind as possible successors 
 of his Emmy ever since the day of her funeral, when, 
 with neighborly sympathy, they had told him to 
 "come over oncet then," and with foresight he had 
 responded that when his "first grief was over al 
 ready" he "would mebbe come over." 
 
 As Mathias was childless, his widowerhood had 
 been very lonesome. It had not even been economical 
 (a great point to Mathias), for the cost of the funeral, 
 together with what he had been obliged to pay out in 
 the past year for "a hired girl," had amounted, by a 
 clear calculation, to several dollars more than Em- 
 
 227
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 my's annual expenditure for clothing. Not that 
 Mathias was a poor man; he had a large bank ac 
 count for a farmer; but he was what the neighbors 
 called "near." 
 
 Taking all things into account, it was clear to Ma 
 thias that he must marry again. The question was, 
 which of the two Ebenshade girls would "best suit." 
 Either of them was indeed a prize, their father being 
 a confirmed widower of long standing, whose fine 
 large farm and accumulated savings would be inher 
 ited by his two daughters Kate, aged twenty-six, and 
 Geneva, twenty-four. Mathias had, in the past two 
 months, been applying various tests to Geneva and 
 Kate in order to ascertain their respective qualifica 
 tions for the honor which he meant to confer upon 
 one of them. He had one week asked Geneva to give 
 him her "dough scrapings" for his horse next time 
 she baked, and the following week, when it was Kate 's 
 turn to do the family baking, he had made the same 
 request of her. The result had been disappointing. 
 Geneva, who was fair and plump and alluring, had 
 given him a whole "toot" (a paper bag) full of dried 
 dough scrapings, thus betraying her deficient sense of 
 domestic economy in having allowed so much dough 
 to stick to her bowl. Kate, who was spare and blood 
 less and unattractive, had manifested her superiority 
 to her sister in the fact that, as she informed him, she 
 
 228
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 "did n't never have no dough scrapings still when she 
 baked." 
 
 He had taken occasion also to watch each of them 
 at their sewing, when on summer evenings, after the 
 milking, they wheeled the machine out to the kitchen 
 porch and worked at the household mending until 
 sundown. Geneva, the alluring, wasted her thread it 
 made him cold to see the carelessness with which she 
 broke it off at least two inches from the machine. 
 Kate, on the other hand, always deftly broke it as 
 close as possible, thus saving, Mathias was sure, some 
 two or three spools of thread a year. 
 
 Even among the saving, thrifty people of Lancaster 
 County, Mathias was called "wonderful close." But 
 this peculiarity was counted commendable rather than 
 otherwise an exaggerated virtue. 
 
 "Mathias Buckholter has three good farms and they 
 want to say he could buy that many more yet," Eli 
 Ebenshade was fond of remarking to his daughters 
 as a spur to the matrimonial alliance of which with 
 gratification he saw the possibility. 
 
 "It ain't much good to him if he is well fixed," 
 Geneva once ventured to respond, "so near as he is 
 with his money. He is now wonderful keen on the 
 penny, Pop!" 
 
 "He 's a hard worker and a close saver," approv 
 ingly affirmed her father, "which it would be a good 
 
 22Q
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 thing if you was to be more that way yourself, Gen- 
 evy, and not so giddy-headed as what you are still." 
 
 "I don't see no use," Geneva pouted, "in bein' that 
 much on the make as what Mathias Buckholter is. 
 His hired girl says he won't so much as leave her give 
 a tramp a drink of buttermilk." 
 
 "Well," Eli conceded, "he is a little for hisself, I 
 guess. There for a while he was so onneighborly he 
 would n't do it to leave me hitch to his post still, when 
 mine was n't put up yet. He sayed it wore his 'n out 
 that much sooner for me to be hitchin' to it." 
 
 "He 's gentle-spoke for a man," said Kate in a 
 tone of defense. "He ain't no rough talker that way. 
 And if somepin' does ever make him cross, he 's easy 
 peacified, I 've took notice already." 
 
 "Ach!" said Geneva impatiently, "the first time I 
 seen him when he moved over to Canaan, I sayed, 
 'What for ugly lookin' man is him?' I used to think 
 to myself he 's so long and thin, why if a body joggled 
 him he 'd topple over. And when he makes so funny 
 still to keep his store teeth in when he 's talkin', he 
 looks that wicked-like, he minds me of them pictures 
 I seen already of the devil. If he is gentle-spoke, 
 Kate, he ain't pretty." 
 
 "No," thoughtfully granted Kate, "he ain't no 
 pretty man. And he is wonderful near; yes, full 
 much so." 
 
 230
 
 t The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 "He takes after his Mom," said Eli. "I mind 
 when she was young the people sayed she turned plain 
 'cause it did n't cost so expensive to wear the plain 
 dress as what it did to dress fashionable." 
 
 Mathias 's decision as to whether it should be Kate 
 or Geneva was precipitated by a circumstance that 
 left him no more room for douHt. 
 
 Kate " turned plain." She discarded her worldly 
 attire and donned the straight plain gown, three- 
 cornered cape, and little white cap of the New Men- 
 nonites, one of the strictest sects in that land of 
 strange sects southeastern Pennsylvania. 
 
 Mathias was as greatly elated as surprised. 
 
 "It won't cost near so expensive to dress her as 
 what it would to dress Genevy, who 's so wonderful 
 fashionable that way." 
 
 He regretted, to be sure, that it was not the soft, 
 fair Geneva instead of the spare and homely Kate 
 that had adopted this inexpensive garb. But it cer 
 tainly seemed that, all the circumstances considered, 
 Providence clearly meant him to marry the more fru 
 gal and industrious elder sister. 
 
 The fact that as a member of the Mennonite sect 
 Kate could not marry one who was still "in the 
 world" that is, who was not also a New Mennonite 
 was not a difficulty in Mathias 's way, for he had al 
 ways meant sometime to "give himself up" and join 
 
 231
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 Meeting, and now was surely as propitious a time as 
 any. He would have to buy new clothes "to say yes 
 in," and he might as well lay the money out in get 
 ting the New Mennonite broad-brimmed hat and 
 plain, clerically cut coat which some day he would, at 
 any rate, be obliged to buy if he would be saved ; for 
 Mathias was the offspring of New Mennonites, and he 
 knew full well that outside the tenets of this Church 
 there was no salvation. 
 
 So, before going over to pay his customary Satur 
 day evening visit at Eli Ebenshade's, he repaired to 
 Lancaster City, had his beard shaved off, and bought 
 himself a New Mennonite outfit. 
 
 Piously clad in this austere garb, he went, on Sat 
 urday evening, across the road to "speak his mind." 
 
 He found Kate alone in the kitchen. It was only 
 six o'clock, but the customary early supper was over, 
 the room "redd up," the milking "through," and the 
 milk "separated"; so Kate was free for the rest of 
 the evening. 
 
 Mathias told her at once that he had come to "set 
 up" with her; and she, taking the hint that he did n't 
 want Geneva or her father about, carried two heavy 
 wooden rocking-chairs from the parlor to the front 
 porch. Mathias never dreamed of offering to assist her 
 his Pennsylvania-Dutch view of woman involv 
 ing no remotest hint of chivalry. 
 
 232
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 ' ' I 'm now wonderful surprised to see you, Mathias, 
 dressed plain," began Kate, rocking rather nervously 
 in her big chair. "How did you come to give your 
 self up, Mathias?" 
 
 "Well, Kate, it was like this. It come to me I 
 was n't doin' what was right in remainin' in the 
 world and dressin' fashionable and votin' at elections, 
 which the Word of Gawd it says ye shall be neither 
 law-breakers nor law-makers. (I can't word it just 
 exact. ) So it come to me I 'd be on the safe side and 
 join to the true Fold. So then here the other night I 
 took and studied the Scripture and another book I 
 got over there at the house it 's only sich a little 
 pamplet a book of Christ. I studied till I was con 
 victed of my sins. Not that I had n't always been a 
 moral man; but there ain't no savin' means in mor 
 ality. So I studied till I come to the truth. I seen! 
 And now, Kate, if any one comes to me and passes the 
 remark, What do I think? I '11 tell them my opin 
 ion straightforward: I ain't no more goin' to conform 
 to this world. You see I had my mustache shaved 
 off. It cost me fifteen cents. I always had a pride in 
 that mustache, Kate. But I knowed it was a tempta 
 tion of the Enemy to keep me in the World, and, ' ' he 
 piously added, "I 've conquered. It 's no more. And 
 now, Kate, tell me how you come to give yourself up ? 
 Them plain does becomes you something surprising, 
 
 233
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 and I 'm wonderful glad you don't dress fashionable 
 no more." * 
 
 "Well, Mathias, it was this here way. You 
 knowed last week we was to our cousin's funeral, ain't 
 you did?" 
 
 Mathias gravely nodded. "Over to East Done 
 gal?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you go from Mt. Joy up?" he asked. 
 
 "No; we come from Manheim down. You go out 
 the pike to Snyder's Hotel and then you turn out up 
 that way and there is it. Well, our cousin he died 
 from fallin' sudden out of a cherry tree and broke his 
 neck instant and, Mathias," said Kate solemnly, 
 "that was a very loud call to me! I kep' thinkin' to 
 myself that verse of poe-try, 
 
 'Bound as a ring that has no end, 
 So shall Eternity be!' 
 
 and it made cold chills go over me still. And the 
 preacher at the funeral sayed how the time will 
 come when for each one of us the calling of the Lord 
 will be quit. So, Mathias, I was moved to give my 
 self up. And 0!" she fervently said, her plain face 
 glowing with an earnestness that gave her something 
 better than beauty, but which, it is to be feared, was 
 not appreciated by Mathias, "I 've been so wonderful 
 blest since then ! The Lord is come very close to me, 
 
 234
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 Mathias ! I 'm an ignorant person I ain't got no nice 
 education that way but the Lord is teachin' me wis 
 dom anyhow. It don't come in education, servin' the 
 Lord don't. The Word says that the things is hid 
 from the wise and prudent, and yielded unto babes 
 and I says to myself, 'What for babes is them?' 
 It could n't mean real little babies, because they 
 could n't understand. It means babes in Christ. 
 And I 'm a baby in Christ. I use n't to like Men- 
 nonites, Mathias; I used to talk down on 'em; but I 
 seen different after Cousin Andrew Bushonger fell 
 out the cherry tree so sudden." 
 
 After this serious exchange of confidences, the next 
 step was easy and natural. 
 
 IT was six months after their marriage that on one 
 drizzling morning in November Kate "flopped," as 
 she called it, in the midst of her week's baking; she 
 suddenly felt herself giving way before a moral and 
 physical weakness, to the dire neglect and ruin of her 
 dough. She sank into a chair to "study things out, 
 and if it took all day and no dinner ready for Mathias 
 yet when he come in from the barn already. ' ' 
 
 Even to the frugal, Pennsylvania-Dutch soul of 
 Kate, accustomed to abstain from the unnecessary ex 
 penditure of a penny, Mathias's closeness had come 
 to seem a monstrosity. Her Mennonite principles, 
 
 235
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 to which she had thus far in her married life been 
 stanch, had led her to bear with "a meek and quiet 
 spirit," his extraordinary meanness. But to-day a 
 climax in her feelings had been reached ; all of a sud 
 den, while kneading her dough, she had realized that 
 a turning-point had come to her, and that she would 
 not submit another day to being ' ' ground down. ' ' 
 
 Never before in her life had Kate been called upon 
 to do such strenuous thinking as that which she did in 
 the next half-hour. With Spartan determination, 
 she resolved that once and for all she would end this 
 strife with her husband as to the spending of money. 
 Her own father, when she had kept house for him, 
 had had sufficient confidence in her judgment and 
 economy to allow her entire freedom in her manage 
 ment, without questioning her or demurring. True, 
 with the more heedless Geneva, who now took chief 
 charge, he was less free; but even she was not re 
 stricted a hundredth as much as her married sister. 
 Kate wondered what Mathias would have done with 
 a wife like Geneva, or, rather, what Geneva would have 
 done with a husband like Mathias, who would never 
 let a nickel pass through his wife's hands; who re 
 fused to buy for her the kitchen utensils which she 
 absolutely required, or a new washboard when the old 
 one tore her hands and the clothes; who obliged her 
 to use brown sugar exclusively, and would not buy 
 
 236
 
 " A husband like Mathias, who refused to buy for her the 
 kite-lien utensils which she absolutely required "
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 her a sewing-machine ; who watched what she ate and 
 tried to check her appetite; who refused to let her 
 burn enough wood and coal to keep herself health 
 fully comfortable. 
 
 "I '11 learn him!" she affirmed to herself, with a 
 cool quiet in her eyes that was born of her Mennonite 
 abstemiousness and self-control. ' ' I '11 just give way 
 and I won't hold out in the faith I '11 dress fashion 
 able again. He told me he has trade at Haverstick's 
 store in Lancaster for a bar'l of apples or a bushel of 
 potatoes or whatever and I '11 just go to town and 
 buy some fashionable cloes till the bar'l of whatever 
 is paid for. Then I '11 give a party anyhow and in 
 vite fifteen and bake a cake and have doughnuts and 
 lemonade. I '11 get the lemons and things at the store 
 unbeknown, and he '11 have to pay for 'em after. 
 I '11 act more fashionable than what I was already be 
 fore I turned plain. That '11 fix him. He will try to 
 turn me plain again, and I '11 say I won't never give 
 myself up no more till he passes his promise to give 
 me the handlin' of so much a week." 
 
 Kate's weapon was a mighty one, and she was 
 shrewd enough to know it. The Mennonite rules 
 made it obligatory upon the husband to put her away 
 from him as a wife so long as she remained apostate. 
 He must continue to keep and support her, but he 
 dare not hold unnecessary converse with her, eat at 
 
 239
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 table with her, or sleep at her side, until she repent 
 her of her backsliding and once more come into the 
 Fold. 
 
 In her heart Kate was entirely loyal to her faith ; 
 her backsliding was to be only a means of disciplining 
 her husband. She reasoned that if, in order to lead 
 straying sheep back into the Fold, the Meeting devised 
 a discipline of domestic ostracism such as that above 
 described, why should not she vary the prescribed dis 
 cipline slightly, in order to meet the exigencies of this 
 particular case? 
 
 Dinner was ready for Mathias when at eleven 
 o'clock he came in, bland and amiable as usual, but in 
 his customary spirit of obstinacy, and, of course, of 
 zeal for saving. 
 
 It was when he was having his after-dinner smoke 
 of impossibly cheap tobacco, while watching Kate 
 "redd up," that his geniality expanded to communi 
 cativeness. 
 
 "What d' you think I come acrost this morning out 
 here in the north field?" he said between puffs at 
 his pipe. "A - dude from town that sayed he 
 was a 'artist/ a-paintin' a photygrap of our cow 
 with his horn Hroke. I spoke something to him 
 about how if he wanted to pay a little for it, he could 
 draw a photygrap of one of my horned cows, seein' he 
 wanted a drawin' of a picture of a cow. But he sayed 
 
 240
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 he had a preference for the one he was doin'. I ast 
 him what he was going to do with it then when he got 
 it drawed oncet, an' he says, 'sell it.' 'Ach,' I says, 
 'what '11 you get for a picture of a cow with his horn 
 broke,' and he says 'one hundred dollars,' he says. 
 'Now think!' I says, 'Why, the cow herself would n't 
 bring ten dollars ! Who 'd be fool enough to give a 
 hundred dollars for a drawin' of her?' He laughed 
 hearty, but I don't know what at. He was now a good 
 conwerser. I says to him, 'If you get a hundred dol 
 lars for that drawin', I think you ought to pay me for 
 givin ' you the dare to draw her. ' And he ast me how 
 much was it, and I says 'we 'd make it come at ten 
 cents by the hour. ' So he gimme a quarter. But he 
 did n 't set no full hour. Har 'ly a half. ' ' 
 
 Kate was brushing up about the hearth, and she 
 kept her back turned to her husband lest he see her 
 face of shame at his charging the stranger for the 
 privilege of drawing a picture of their thin old 
 cow. 
 
 "You ain't hittin' it behind the wood-box," Ma 
 thias admonished, as he watched her broom. ' ' There 's 
 dust there." 
 
 Kate controlled her impulse to "hit it" over his 
 head knowing full well that such impulses were 
 temptations of the Enemy and plied her broom be 
 hind the wood-box. 
 
 is ~ A , 
 
 241
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 "Gimme a drink to wrench my mouth out oncet," 
 he said. 
 
 She took from a closet a tumbler containing about 
 two tablespoonfuls of sour milk, which she poured 
 into a garbage bucket, and then walked over to the 
 dishpan to wash the glass. Mathias started forward 
 with an exclamation of distress. "Why did you 
 throw that sour milk to aside for?" 
 
 "It was n't enough to do nothin' with, and I ain't 
 got no more tumblers." 
 
 "Why did n't you gimme a drink in a cup then? 
 Don't throw nothin' to aside that can be used. I 
 won't stand none of that, Kate. Don't you do it 
 again." 
 
 Kate washed the glass and handed it to him filled 
 with water. 
 
 "Do you understand, Kate?" he persisted. 
 
 "Oh, be sure!" she answered, more impatiently 
 than he had ever heard her speak since she had turned 
 plain. 
 
 He looked at her curiously. "I seen from the 
 barn this morning that some one come in for a while 
 to see you. What for girl was she ?" 
 
 "Sally Eberly." 
 
 ' ' Oh, her. Did she mebbe holt you back from your 
 work some?" 
 
 Kate turned with an unwonted flush in her face and 
 
 242
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 met his eye. "I ast her to stop and eat dinner. But 
 she sayed she knowed you 'd not make her welcome." 
 
 "Why did you ast her to eat here fur? Ain't she 
 got her own home and her own victuals? I guess I 
 pay for my victuals anyhow. Let her pay for her 'n. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The Rules and the Bible says we must be hospita 
 ble. Mennonites always practises hospitality. You 
 don't obey to the Rules." 
 
 Mathias puffed at his pipe thoughtfully. ' ' It means 
 be hospitable to the brethren ; not to the World. Sally 
 Eberly, she 's in the World. Your water 's hot 
 enough now for your dishes," he digressed; "ain't 
 it? You 'd better outen that fire and not waste 
 your wood. ' ' 
 
 "Mathias Buckholter, I wisht 'at you 'd clear 
 out of here and leave me be ! " Kate crossly returned. 
 
 Mathias stared at her in surprise. "Ain't you 
 mebbe feelin' well, Kate?" 
 
 Kate almost slammed her plates into the dishpan 
 and literally dashed her hot water at them. She 
 found herself wishing that some of the boiling water 
 would splash upon Mathias 's placid countenance and 
 scald it into a grimace or a frown. 
 
 "Don't you be breakin' any dishes," he anxiously 
 warned her. "If you ain't feelin' just so good, don't 
 be wastin' money goin' to no doctor, Kate, for it 's 
 all blamed foolishness to be supposin ' they can do you 
 
 243
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 any good. Emmy she was took with such a pain in 
 her shoulder there for a while, and it got so bad that 
 unbeknownst to me she called in Dr. Isenberger over 
 to New Sanville, and he rubbed her, but it only just 
 moved the pain from her shoulder down to her heart. 
 And I sayed, ' If that 's all you wanted to do, you 'd 
 better of let that pain where it was.' And after 
 Emmy died he sent me a bill for five dollars!" Ma 
 thias gasped at the recollection. "He ketched me 
 awful. And I had to pay it, too. He would n 't hear 
 to me not payin' it, for all I talked at him for two 
 hours. And at last he says, ' I can 't listen to you no 
 more; I got a patient up the road a good piece yet, 
 and my time 's up ! ' Then I says, sarcastic that way, 
 'I hope that patient won't get ketched like what 
 you 've ketched me,' and I chucked the five at him 
 and went out. But that settled me ; I ain 't never no 
 more goin' to have no doctor runnin' here. He 'd 
 better have left that pain where it was. It spited me 
 something wonderful." 
 
 He "outened" his pipe and rose to go out to his 
 work. 
 
 "Mathias," said Kate, "make it so the buggy 's 
 ready for me. I 'm goin' to Lancaster." 
 
 Mathias paused with his hand on the doorknob, min 
 gled surprise and obstinacy in every line of his sleek 
 face. 
 
 244
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 "What fur?" 
 
 Kate washed her dishes with a vigor that made him 
 shudder with apprehension of their fate. 
 
 "I 'm goin' to town to buy does. I 'm goin' to 
 give way and dress fashionable. That 's what I 'm 
 goin' to do." 
 
 Mathias walked to his chair and sank into it. 
 
 "Kate!" he gasped. "Has the Enemy been temp- 
 tin' you?" 
 
 "Yes. And he 's been usin' you for an instru 
 ment. ' ' 
 
 "Me! I ain't urgin' you to dress fashionable, 
 Kate!" 
 
 "But you 're temptin' me to cherishin' a spirit I 
 ain't learned of the Master! And if I can't obey to 
 the Rules, I won't be no hypocrite I '11 give way, 
 open and honest and dress fashionable! You just 
 make it so the buggy 's ready now!" 
 
 ' ' It don 't suit for the horse to-day. ' ' 
 
 "Then I '11 get Pop's. And I '11 get Genevy to go 
 with, to help choose my fashionable things. And I '11 
 treat her to a plate of ice cream yet. ' ' 
 
 "Where '11 you get the money?" 
 
 "You 're got trade at Haverstick's. I '11 buy my 
 things off of him. ' ' 
 
 "I say, I won't give you the dare, Kate. You 
 have n't the dare." 
 
 245
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 "I ain't askin' you have I the dare. I 'm goin'." 
 
 "But I can't eat or talk or sit with you no more 
 if you give up," he remonstrated, looking white. 
 
 "You can turn fashionable yourself if you want." 
 
 "It costs more expensive to live fashionable." 
 
 Kate turned on him again with vigorous decision. 
 
 "Mathias, now you listen at me. You pass me your 
 promise you '11 gimme seven dollars a week to buy 
 what I need for the housekeepin ' and myself and I '11 
 not give way. You don't pass me that promise and 
 I '11 run you in debt, and give a party, and what 
 ever!" 
 
 Mathias stared at her blankly. His Emmy had 
 never turned upon him by word or look. How should 
 this vigorous woman be met and put down? He 
 would have to ponder the matter heavily. 
 
 Slowly he rose and went again to the door. "I ain't 
 hitchin' up for you. You stay at home and tend to 
 your work. ' ' 
 
 Kate resumed her dish-washing, and gave him no 
 articulate answer; the set of her jaw was answer 
 enough. 
 
 He went out to his farm to go on with his day's 
 work, but his soul was heavy within him. Kate meant 
 what she had said. His conviction of that was deep 
 and unwavering. How, then, was he going to escape 
 the inevitable anguish of unlooked-for expenditure? 
 
 246
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 Mechanically he sawed his wood as he bent to the ter 
 rible problem. Should Kate turn fashionable, life would 
 not be worth living if he could not, by the rules of his 
 faith, eat with her, sleep with her, hold converse with 
 her. And what a great saving of expense it was to 
 have her ' ' dress plain ' ' and live the abstemious life of 
 the New Mennonites ! Would it not, in the long run, 
 be more economical to accede to her demands for an 
 allowance and thus keep her within the true Fold? 
 
 But seven dollars a week ! He groaned aloud at the 
 thought of letting her handle his money and spend it 
 as she wished, without his supervision. ' 
 
 What could he do? How escape from these awful 
 alternatives? Was there no way out by which he 
 might keep both his money and his wife? 
 
 His troubled thoughts were broken in upon by a 
 sound which made his heart rise up in his throat 
 the sound of carriage wheels across the road. He has 
 tened to the fence, to see his wife and her sister seated 
 in their father's buggy, driving out of the barnyard 
 to the pike. 
 
 Throwing open his front gate, he ran over to them 
 and seized the horse's bridle. 
 
 ''Kate!" he gasped, "what are you going to do?" 
 
 "I 'm goin' to town to buy out your trade at Haver- 
 stick 's in fashionable cloes, ' ' she grimly made answer, 
 and the eyes of her sister Geneva gleamed with the 
 
 247
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 double satisfaction of seeing her brother-in-law de 
 fied and the prospect of a shopping excursion. 
 
 "You ain't goin to do it to go, Kate !" pleaded Ma 
 thias. "You daresent give way. You 're got to stand 
 firm like what I 'm doin' and serve the Lord." 
 
 "It 's easy for you to stand firm the Enemy ain't 
 temptin' you still, like what he 's temp tin' me througn 
 you as an instrument. I 'm goin' to town, and I 'm 
 goin' to get me and Genevy ice cream and run a bill 
 up on you. ' ' 
 
 "I '11 have to tell the brethren to come and reason 
 with you, Kate." 
 
 "It won't do no good. My mind 's made up, 
 Mathias. ' ' 
 
 "I '11 buy you some of them kitchen things you 
 want, Kate I '11 get you a new washboard and some 
 tumblers and whatever. ' ' 
 
 "Will you gimme what I sayed by the week?" 
 
 "How much was it you sayed you wanted me to 
 leave you have? Was it two dollars?" 
 
 "No, it was n't. It was seven. And I want a wash 
 woman. Pop gets Genevy one since I ain't there to 
 help her, and you can afford it just as good as what 
 he can. And I want a telyphome, Mathias!" she 
 boldly demanded, while Geneva's bosom swelled with 
 the excitement of the occasion "The country peo 
 ple 's getting telyphomes wherever they can handy, 
 
 248
 
 The Disciplining of Mathias 
 
 and Pop says he '11 pay half and use our'n if we have 
 one. You pass me your promise you '11 gimme them 
 things and I won't give way. You don't pass me no 
 promise and I '11 cost you just as expensive as what 
 ever I can." 
 
 Mathias being of German, not English extraction, 
 was able to recognize his own defeat. His face was 
 white with misery as he looked up into the resolute 
 countenance of his wife. 
 
 "Think of what the brethren and sisters '11 think 
 of you if you give way, Kate !" he put forth as a last 
 feeble remonstrance. 
 
 "I ain't a-carin' ! The Enemy 's made me feel that 
 wonderful reckless, Mathias, I '11 wear my fashionable 
 does to Meetin' next Sunday!" 
 
 Mathias 's hand dropped from the horse's bridle. 
 
 "Kate," he said feebly, "I pass my promise. You 
 need n't go to Haverstick 's. " 
 
 The hardened lines in Kate's face relaxed, and she 
 looked at her husband kindly. 
 
 "All right, Mathias." 
 
 She turned the horse's head, not toward town, but 
 down the road, where lived the washwoman. 
 
 249
 
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