d of my
studying music need not worry Aunt Maria. I am determined to do it,
wouldn't you?"

"I suppose I'd feel the same way."

"How did you learn to understand so well, Mother Bab? You have lived all
your life on a farm, yet you are not narrow."

"I hope I have not grown narrow," the woman said softly. "I have read a
great deal. I have read--don't you breathe it to a soul--I have often
read when I should have been baking pies or washing windows!"

"No wonder David worships you so."

"I still enjoy reading," said Mother Bab. "David subscribes for three
good magazines and when they come I'm so anxious to look into them that
sometimes my cooking burns."

"That must be one of the reasons your English is correct. I am ashamed
of myself when I mix my v's and w's and use a _t_ for a _d_. I have
often wished the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect would have been put aside
long ago."

"Yes," the woman agreed, "I can't see the need of it. It has been
ridiculed so long that it should have died a natural death. It's a
mystery to me how it has survived. But cheer up, Phoebe, the gibberish
is dying out. The older people will continue to speak it but the younger
generations are becoming more and more English speaking. Why, do you
know, Phoebe, since this war started in Europe and I read the dreadful
crimes the Germans are committing I feel that I never want to hear or
say, 'Yah.'"

"Bully!" Phoebe clapped her hands. "I said to old Aaron Hogendobler
yesterday that I'm ashamed I have a German name and some German
ancestors, even if they did come to this country before the Revolution,
and he said no one need feel shame at that, but every American who is
not one hundred per cent American should die from shame. I know we
Pennsylvania Dutch can carry our end of the burdens of the world and be
real Americans, but I want to sound like one too."

Mother Bab laughed. "Just yesterday I said to David that the butter was
_all_."

"I say that very often. I must read more."

"And I less. I haven't told you, Phoebe, nor David, but my eyes are
going back on me. I went to Lancaster a few weeks ago and the doctor
there said I must be very careful not to strain them at all. I think I'd
rather lose any other sense than sight. I always thought it was the
greatest affliction in the world to be blind."

"It is! It mustn't come to you, Mother Bab!"

The woman looked worried, but in a moment her face brightened.

"Anyhow," she said, "what's the use