"Ain't he dear!" Amanda said as she brought the baby into the kitchen. "And so bright he is for not quite six months old. I remember how old he is because it was on my mom's last birthday in March that Millie said you had another baby and I remember, too, that Aunt Rebecca was there and she said, 'What, them Landis's got another baby! Poor thing!' I asked Mom why she said that and she thought Aunt Rebecca meant that babies make so much work for you." "Ach, abody works anyhow, might as well work tendin' babies. Put your cheek against Johnny's face once, Amanda." Amanda bent her head and touched the soft cheek of the child. "Why," she said, "ain't it soft, now! Ain't babies just too dear and sweet! I guess Aunt Rebecca don't know how nice they are." "Poor thing," said Mrs. Landis. "Poor--she ain't poor!" Amanda corrected her. "She owns two farms and got lots of money besides." "But no children--poor thing," repeated Mrs. Landis. Amanda looked at her, wondering. "Amanda," said the white-capped mother as she wiped some blackberry juice from little Henry's fingers, "abody can have lots of money and yet be poor, and others can have hardly any money and yet be rich. It's all in what abody means by rich and what kind of treasures you set store by. I wouldn't change places with your rich Aunt Rebecca for all the farms in Lancaster County." "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." "All right, do, Amanda."