iffure of a woman! The golden hair was
parted in the middle, twisted into a shapely knot in the nape of her
neck, and the effect was highly satisfactory, she thought.

"Mother Bab will be surprised," she said gladly as she swung up the hill
in rapid, easy strides. "And David--I wonder what David will say if he's
home."

At the summit of the hill she paused and turned, looked back at the gray
farmhouse and beyond it to the little town of Greenwald.

"I just must stand here a minute and look! I love this view from the
hill."

She breathed deeply and continued to revel in the beauty of the scene.
At the foot of the hill was the Metz farm nestling in its green
surroundings. Like a tan ribbon the dusty road went winding past green
fields, then hid itself as it dipped into a valley and made a sharp
curve, though Phoebe knew that it went on past more fields and meadows
to the town. Where she stood she had a view of the tall spires of
Greenwald churches straggling through the trees, and the red and slate
roofs of comfortable houses gleaming in the sunlight. Beyond and about
the town lay fields resplendent in the pristine freshness of May
greenery.

"Oh," she said aloud after a long gaze, "this is glorious! But I must
hurry to Mother Bab. I'm wild to have her see me. Aunt Maria just said
when I showed her my hair, 'Yes well, Phoebe, I guess you're old enough
to wear your hair up.' Mother Bab is different. Sometimes I pity Aunt
Maria and wonder what kind of childhood she had to make her so grim
about some things."

The little house in which David and his mother lived stood near the
country road leading to the schoolhouse on the hill. Like many other
farmhouses of that county it was square, substantial and unadorned, its
attractiveness being derived solely from its fine proportions, its
colonial doorways, and the harmonious surroundings of trees and flowers.
The garden was eloquent of the lavish love bestowed upon it. Mother Bab
delighted in flowers and planted all the old favorites. The walks
between the garden beds were trim and weedless, the yard and buildings
well kept, and the entire little farm gave evidence that the reputed
Pennsylvania Dutch thrift and neatness were present there.

Adjoining the farm of Mother Bab was the farm of her brother-in-law, the
father of Phares Eby. This was one of the best known in the community.
Its great barns and vast acres quite eclipsed the modest little dwelling
beside it. David Eb