Martin's Girl

"I'll hold on to my castles in Spain!" she cried to her heart. "I'll
keep on hoping, I won't let go," she said, as though, like Jacob of
old, she were wrestling for a blessing.

Many afternoons she brought her sewing to the front porch and sat there
as Martin passed by on his way home from the day's work at Lancaster.
His cordial, "Hello" was friendly enough but it afforded scant joy to
the girl who knew that all his leisure hours were spent with the
attractive Isabel Souders.

Martin was friendly enough, but that was handing her a stone when she
wanted bread.

One June morning she was working in the yard as he went by on his way
to the bank. A great bunch of his mother's pink spice roses was in his
arm. He was earlier, too, than usual. Probably he was taking the
flowers to Isabel.

"Hello," he called to the girl. "You're almost a stranger, Amanda."

He was not close enough to see the tremble of her lips as she called
back, "Not quite, I hope."

"Well, Mother said this morning that she has not seen you for several
weeks. You used to come down to play with the babies but now your
visits are few and far between. Mother said she misses you, Amanda. Why
don't you run down to see her when you have time?"

"All right, Martin, I will. It is some time since I've had a good visit
with your mother. I'll be down soon."