“It’s nice of her to keep ya company while we’re gone,” Susie said. “Our big sister always has interesting things to share, ’specially when it comes to her little ones.”

“Next farm sale, I want ya to come with us, okay, Mamma?” Britta left the gas range to go and give her mother a kiss on her cheek. “Ain’t the same without ya.”

“Denki, but I’m not feelin’ up to it today.” Mamma reached for the hem of her black apron and began to fan herself.

“If Polly wasn’t comin’, one of us would stay home with you,” Susie said from across the kitchen. “Wouldn’t think of leavin’ when you’re under the weather.”

“Ach, yous can’t always be here.” Mamma’s expression changed. “And I don’t expect it.” She gave them her sweet, familiar smile, with all the love it represented.

“I love ya, Mamma,” Susie said, her light brown eyes glistening.

“Jah, me too—even more than books,” Britta added with a grin.

“Well then,” Mamma replied, chuckling, “I must really be loved!”

They laughed merrily.

But Britta, feeling a prick of concern for Mamma’s health, knelt to rest her head on her mother’s knees.

At the Yoder farm, Britta was happy to see her friend Hazel coming out the back door just as Susie halted Atta-Girl, their main driving horse. Hazel wore a salmon-colored dress with a black apron, her silky blond hair bun hidden by her heart-shaped head covering. A quick smile spread across her pretty face.

Susie got out and folded down the front seat so Hazel could get in back with Britta.

“Whose eye are ya hopin’ to catch today?” Britta teased as Hazel sat down next to her.

Hazel blushed, then whispered, “I’m too young to think ’bout fellas.” Despite her words, a smile dimpled her cheeks.

“And pigs can fly, jah?” Britta replied.

Hazel giggled. “Okay, sometimes I think about boys.”

“Well, it won’t be long an’ we’ll both be going to Sunday Singings,” Britta observed.

“Just two more years for me,” Hazel said, eyes alight.

“So, is there a fella you’re sweet on?” Britta glanced at her friend. “There must be someone, considerin’ how nice ya dressed for the auction.”

Hazel shook her head. “Ach, must ya ask so many questions?”

Britta blushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. Guess I’m more used to talkin’ to cats.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Hazel said quickly. “And I talk to cats, too. Well, cats and cows,” she added with a smile.

They laughed about that, and even Susie joined in the gaiety, mentioning that animals were good listeners.

Soon, the conversation turned to the items they were looking to purchase for their individual hope chests with money they’d earned. Hazel was a part-time gardener for her grandparents, and Britta was an occasional babysitter for the Ebersols.

“Are you searchin’ for anything special, Susie?” Hazel asked, leaning forward.