The post-office was next to the store and on the same street as
Grandfather Gaumer's. There are only three streets in the village, Main
Street and Locust and Church, and all the houses are built out to the
pavement in the Pennsylvania German fashion, so that the little
settlement does not cover much ground. Perhaps that was why Katy,
leaving Main Street and starting forth on Locust, came so soon to the
end of her spasm of affection. There did not seem to be enough of the
village to warrant any such fervent outpouring. At any rate, Katy's mood
changed.
"I am tired of Millerstown," she declared with equal fervor. "It is
dumb. It is quiet. Nothing ever happens in this place."
The residents of Locust Street were especially dull to Katy's thinking.
Dumb Coonie Schnable lived here and dumb Ellie Schindler, and Essie
Hill, whom she hated. Essie was the daughter of the pastor of the
Improved New Mennonites, of whom Bevy Schnepp was one. The preacher
himself was tall and angular and rather blank of countenance, but Essie
was small and pretty and pink and smooth of speech and by no means
"dumb." Once, being a follower of her father's religious practices,
Essie had risen in school and had prayed for forgiveness for Katy's
outrageous impudence to the teacher, and had thereupon become his
favorite forever. That Essie could really be what she seemed, that she
could like to hear her father shout about the Millerstown sinners, that
she could admire the silly, short-back sailor hat adorned with a Bible
verse, which was the head-covering of the older female members of the
Improved New Mennonite Church--this Katy could not, would not believe.
Essie was a hypocrite.
Sometimes the Improved New Mennonites might be heard singing or praying
hysterically. Katy had often watched them through the window, in company
with Ollie Kuhns and Billy Knerr and one or two other naughty boys and
girls, and had sometimes helped a little with the hysterical shrieking.
To-night the little frame building was dark, and here, as down on Main
Street, there was not a sound.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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