On The Mountain Top

The following Sunday at noon Martin passed the Reist farmhouse as he
drove his mother and several of the children to Mennonite church at
Landisville. After the service he passed that way again and noticed
several cars stopping at Reists'. Evidently they were entertaining a
number of visitors for Sunday dinner after the service, as is the
custom in rural Lancaster County. The big porch was filled with people
who rocked or leaned idly against the pillars, while in the big kitchen
Millie, Amanda and Mrs. Reist worked near the hot stove and prepared an
appetizing dinner for them.

Amanda did not shirk her portion of the necessary work, but rebellion
was in her heart as she noted her mother's flushed, tired face.

"Mother, if you'd only feel that Millie and I could get the dinner
without you! It's a shame to have you in this kitchen on a day like
this!"

"Ach, I'm not so hot. I'm not better than you or Millie," the mother
insisted, and stuck to her post, while Amanda murmured, "This Sunday
visiting--how I hate it! We've outgrown the need of it now, especially
with automobiles."

But at length the meal was placed upon the table, the guests gathered
from porches and lawn and an hour later the dishes were washed and
everything at peace once more in the kitchen. Then Amanda walked out to
the garden at the rear of the house.

"Ooh," she sighed in relief, "I'm glad that's over! Visiting on such a
day should be made a misdemeanor!" She pulled idly on a zinnia that
lifted its globular red head in the hot August sun.