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Tillie wondered whether their evident ill-humor were in any way connected with herself, or whether her Aunty Em's surmise were correct, and Sister Jennie was really "spited." "I've come to get two pound of mush," she said, remembering her errand. "It's all," Mrs. Hershey returned. "We solt every cake at market, and no more's made yet. It was all a'ready till market was only half over."
I knew that a few complaints against it had been made, but they had seemed to me very trivial. To me our magpie seemed to have a generally unobjectionable record. Fortunately for me, I wrote to Mr. Hershey, Assistant Curator of Ornithology in the Colorado State Museum, for assistance in procuring fifty birds, for transplantation to the State of New York. Mr.
"Wonderful pie," he said to the waitress. "We make a lot of them," she said. Patrick left a big tip and walked slowly toward home. He had an urge for a Hershey bar as he passed Ann's. Ann took his change without comment. "Willow makes a good sandwich," he said. "You like her, don't you," she said accusingly. He didn't know what to say. Ann glared at him.
For a moment she could see nothing but red and yellow flowers and whitewashed clam-shells. But as her vision cleared, she perceived her neighbor, Lizzie Hershey, a well-built, healthy-looking country lass of eighteen years, cutting bread at a table, and her mother, a large fat woman wearing the Mennonite dress, standing before a huge kitchen range, stirring "ponhaus" in a caldron.
I tole her she needn't be makin' up to HIM, fur he's keepin' comp'ny with Lizzie Hershey!" "Say, mom," announced Amanda, ignoring her sister's rebuke, "I stopped in this morning to see Lizzie Hershey, and she's that spited about Teacher's comin' here instead of to their place that she never so much as ast me would I spare my hat!" "Now look!" exclaimed Mrs. Wackernagel.
Hershey, while Lizzie banged the bread-box shut with an energy forcibly expressive of her feelings. "Thank you," responded the gentleman, a pair of keen, bright eyes sweeping Lizzie's gloomy face. He bowed, put his hat on his head and stepped out of the house. There was a back door at the other side of the kitchen.
"Och, he needn't think I'm dyin' to set up with HIM! There's a plenty others would be glad to set up with me, if I was one of them that was fur keepin' comp'ny with just ANYbody! But I did think when I heard he was goin' to stop here that mebbe he'd be a JOLLY feller that way. Well," Amanda concluded scathingly, "I'm goin' to tell Lizzie Hershey she ain't missin' much!"
Well, Lizzie she coaxed her pop right there in front of the teacher to say THEY'd take him, and Jonas Hershey he sayed HE didn't care any. So Lizzie she tole him then he could come to their place, and he sayed he'd be out this after in the four-o'clock stage."
It was only because the teacher meant an aid to the realization of her ambition to become "educated" that she was interested in his coming. It was but a few minutes' walk to the home of Jonas Hershey, the country pork butcher. As Tillie turned in at the gate, she heard, with a leap of her heart, the distant rumble of the approaching stagecoach.
"Good afternoon!" he said pleasantly, an inquiring note in his voice. Mrs. Hershey and Lizzie went on with their work as though they had not heard him. He took a step into the room, removing his hat. "You were expecting me this afternoon, weren't you?" he asked. "This is the place," Lizzie remarked at last. "You were looking for me?" he repeated. Mrs. Hershey suddenly turned upon Lizzie.
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