“Well, I guess not!” Amanda could understand her attitude. “And Mom and Millie say still you got such nice children. But Martin now,” she said with assumed seriousness as she saw him step on the porch to enter the kitchen--"your Martin pushed me in a bean patch yesterday and I fell down flat on my face.”
“Martin!” his mother began sternly. “What for did you act so?”
“Amanda, don’t you tell!” the boy commanded, his face flushing. “Don’t you dare tell!”
“I got to now, I started it. Ach, Mrs. Landis, you dare be proud of him! My dress caught fire and none of us had sense but him. He smothered it by throwin’ me in the bean patch and he--he’s a hero!”
“A hero!” cried little Henry. “Mart’s a hero!” while the mother smiled proudly.
“Manda Reist,” Martin spoke quickly as he edged to the door. “Amanda Reist, next time--next time I’ll--darn it, I’ll just let you burn up!” He ran from the room and disappeared round the corner of the house.
“Why"--Amanda’s lips trembled--"ain’t he mean! I just wanted to be nice to him and he got mad.”
“Don’t mind him,” soothed the mother. “Boys are funny. He’s not mad at you, he just don’t like too much fuss made over what he done. But all the time he’s tickled all over to have you call him a hero.”
“Oh--are boys like that? Phil’s not. But he ain’t a knight. I guess knights like to pretend they’re very modest even if they’re full of pride.” Mrs. Landis was too busy putting blackberries into the jars to catch the import of the child’s words. The word knight escaped her hearing.
“Well, I must go now,” said the small visitor. “I’ll come again.”