“I’m going to write about that course right away,” Martin said. “I’m glad I had this talk with you, Miss Souders. I’ll do as you suggest-- study nights for a time and then try to get into a bank in Lancaster. It is so kind of you to offer to see your father about a position. I’d feel in my element if I ever held a position in a real bank. I’ll be indebted to you for life.”
“Oh,” she disclaimed any credit, “your own merits would cause you to make good in the position. I am sure Father will be glad to help you. He has helped several young men to find places. All he asks in return is that they make good. I know you’d do that.”
When Martin Landis said good-night his earnest, “May I come again-- soon?” was addressed to Isabel. She magnanimously put an arm about Amanda before she replied, “Certainly. We’ll be glad to have you.”
“Oh,” thought Amanda, “I’ll be hating her pretty soon and then how will I ever endure having her around for a whole month! I’m a mean, jealous cat! Let Martin Landis choose whom he wants--I should worry!”
She said good-night with a stoical attempt at indifference, thereby laying the first block of the hard, high barricade she meant to build about her heart. She would be no child to cry for the moon, the unattainable. If her heart bled what need to make a public exhibition of it! From that hour on the front porch she turned her back on her gay, merry, laughing girlhood and began the journey in the realm of womanhood, where smiles hide sorrows and the true feelings of the heart are often masked.
The determination to meet events with dignity and poise came to her aid innumerable times during the days that followed. When Martin came to the Reist farmhouse with the news that his father was going to give him money for a course in a Business School in Lancaster it was to Isabel he told the tidings and from her he received the loudest handclaps.
The city girl, rosy and pretty in her morning dresses, ensconced herself each day on the big couch hammock of the front porch to wave to Martin Landis as he passed on his way to the trolley that took him to his studies in the city. Sometimes she ran to the gate and tossed him a rose for his buttonhole. Later in the day she was at her post again, ready to ask pleasantly as he passed, “Well, how did school go to-day?” Such seemingly spontaneous interest spurred the young man to greater things ahead.
Many evenings Martin sat on the Reist porch and he and Isabel laughed and chatted and sometimes half-absent-mindedly referred a question to Amanda. Frequently that young lady felt herself to be a fifth wheel and sought some diversion. Excuses were easy to find; the most palpable one was accepted with calm credulity by the infatuated young people.
One day, when three weeks of the boarder’s stay were gone, Lyman Mertzheimer came home from college, bringing with him a green roadster, the gift of his wealthy, indulgent father.
He drew up to the Reist house and tooted his horn until Amanda ran into the yard to discover what the noise meant.