“Martin, you must eat hearty, too,”, said the father. “Your mom made this supper for you.”
“For me? What’s the idea? Feeding the prodigal? Fatted calf and all that, Mother?” the boy asked, smiling,
“Calf--nothing!” exclaimed little Charlie. “It’s them two roosters Mom said long a’ready she’s goin’ to kill once and cook and here they are!”
Charlie wondered why everybody laughed at that but he soon forgot about it as his mother handed him a plate piled high with food.
Amanda scarcely knew what she was eating that day. Each mouthful had the taste of nectar and ambrosia to her. If she could belong to a family like that! She adored her own people and felt certain that no one could wish for a finer family than the one in which she had been placed, but it seemed, by comparison with the Landis one, a very small, quiet family. She wished she could be a part of both, make the twelfth in that charming circle in which she sat that day.
After supper Mrs. Landis turned to Amanda--"Now you stay a while and hear our new pieces on the Victrola.”
“I’ll help you with the dishes,” she offered.
“Ach, no, it ain’t necessary. Mary and I will get them done up in no time. You just go in the room and enjoy yourself.”
With little Katie leading the way and Martin following Amanda went to the sitting-room and sat down while Martin opened the Victrola.
“What do you like?” he asked. “Something lively? Or do you like soft music better?”