Читать книгу: «Courting Ruth»
“Are you all right?” the stranger demanded.
Unable to find her voice, Ruth nodded.
He lifted her into his arms, and gazed into her face.
Ruth couldn’t catch her breath. All she could do was stare into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.
“You scared me half to death,” he murmured, still holding her.
“Is she hurt?”
The sound of her mother’s voice brought her back to the reality of the situation. “Put me down,” she ordered, embarrassed now. “I’m fine.”
Flustered, Ruth stuffed her loose red hair up in her Kapp.
“You sure you’re all right?” The beautiful stranger looked boldly into her face.
The man staring at her was entirely too handsome. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a dimple on his chin. He was clean-shaven, so he wasn’t married.
“Eli Lapp.” He offered his hand to her the way the English did, but she didn’t take it.
Another flush of embarrassment crept across her face.
“And you must be Ruth, Hannah’s daughter,” he said, grinning.
How did he know Mam? How did he know her?
EMMA MILLER
lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid the fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes. Courting Ruth, the first in her Hannah’s Daughters series, is her first romance for Love Inspired.
Courting Ruth
Emma Miller
MILLS & BOON
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May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter; this last instance of your loyalty is better than the first.
—Ruth 3:10
For my great-grandmother Emma, a woman of deep faith, enduring love, and legendary might.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Spring…Kent County, Delaware
Ruth Yoder lifted her skirt and deftly climbed the wooden stile at the back corner of the fence that marked the property line between her family’s farm and their nearest neighbor. The sun-warmed boards felt good on the soles of Ruth’s bare feet, bringing back sweet memories and making her smile. Dat’s stile, God rest his soul. How she missed him. The world had always seemed safe when her father was alive. Without him at the head of the table, life was more uncertain.
What was certain was that if they didn’t hurry, recess would be over, and Mam wouldn’t get her lunch. “Come along, Susanna,” she called over her shoulder to her sister.
“Come along,” Susanna repeated as she scampered up the stile, clutching their mother’s black lunch pail tightly in one chubby hand. Susanna would be eighteen in a few months. She should have been able to carry the lunch across the field to the schoolhouse unaccompanied, but in many ways, she would always be a child.
The English said Susanna had Down syndrome or called her a special-needs person, but Dat had always said that she was one of the Lord’s gifts and that they should feel blessed every day that He had entrusted her to their family. Susanna’s chubby face and slanting blue eyes might seem odd to strangers, but to Ruth, her dear little face, framed by the halo of frizzy red hair that marked her as one of Jonas Yoder’s seven daughters, was beautiful. Susanna’s white Kapp tied over her unruly bun, her Plain blue dress and white apron were exactly like those that Mam had sewn for Ruth. But Susanna’s rosy cheeks, stubby little feet and hands and bubbly personality made her unlike anyone that Ruth had ever known.
Sometimes, to her shame, Ruth secretly felt the tiniest bit of envy for her sister’s uncomplicated world. Ruth had to struggle every day to be the kind of person her mother and her church expected. Being a good soul just seemed to come naturally to Susanna. Ever since her sister Johanna had married and moved to her husband’s farm down the lane, the responsibility of being the oldest child had settled heavily on Ruth’s shoulders. It was that sense of responsibility that had caused her and Mam to have words after breakfast this morning. Not an argument exactly, but a disagreement, and that conversation with her mother made her stomach as heavy as one of Aunt Martha’s pecan-raisin pies.
“You’re twenty-three out, Ruth,” Mam had reminded her as she’d taken her black bonnet from the hook and tied it over her Kapp before starting off for school. “You joined the church when you were nineteen. You’ve done a woman’s job in our house since you were fifteen. It’s past time you chose a husband and had your own home.”
“But you need me here,” she had insisted. “Without Dat, running the farm, taking care of Susanna and teaching school is too much for you. It’s better that I remain single and stay with you.”
“Fiddle-faddle,” Mam had said as she’d gathered her books.
“…Roofie! You’re not listening to me.”
“Ya, I am.” Ruth shook off her reverie and steadied her sister as she descended the steps on the far side of the fence.
“But you’re not. Look!” Susanna pointed. Above the trees, in the direction of the school, rose a column of smoke.
“Samuel’s probably burning brush.”
“But, Roofie.” Susanna trotted to keep up with Ruth’s longer strides as they followed the narrow path through the oak grove. “I smell smoke.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Ruth answered absently. Tonight she would apologize to her mother and—
“Fire!” Susanna squealed as they entered the clearing surrounding the one-room schoolhouse. “The school is on fire!”
Ruth’s mouth gaped in astonishment. Ahead, clouds of smoke billowed from the front porch and cloakroom of the neat, white schoolhouse. In the field, behind an open shed, Ruth spotted the children engaged in a game of softball. Upwind of the building, no one had smelled the smoke yet.
“Sit down, Susanna,” Ruth ordered. “Sit here and guard Mam’s lunch.”
“But the school—” her sister protested, hopping on one bare foot and then the other.
“Don’t move until Mam or I come for you.”
Susanna sighed heavily but dropped to the ground.
Thank You, Lord, Ruth thought. If there was one thing she could depend on, it was that Susanna would always do as she was asked, so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about her safety. Closer to the school than the field, Ruth ran toward the burning structure, bare feet pounding the grass, the skirt of her dress tugging at her knees.
As she drew closer, she saw Mam’s new student, Irwin Beachy, crawl out from under the porch. His face and shirt were smudged black, and he was holding his hands out awkwardly, as though they’d been burned.
“Irwin? What happened? Are you hurt?” she called to him.
The boy’s eyes widened in terror. Without answering, he dashed away toward the woods.
“Irwin!” Ruth shouted. “Come back!”
When the boy vanished in the trees, she turned back to the school. An ugly crackling noise rose and flames rippled between the floorboards of the front porch. Through the open door, she could see tongues of red flame shimmering through the black smoke. The cloakroom seemed engulfed in fire, but the thick inner door that led to the single classroom was securely closed.
Wrapping her apron around her hands to protect them, Ruth grabbed the smoking rope that dangled from the cast-iron bell by the steps. She yanked hard, and the old bell pealed out the alarm. Then she released the rope and darted to the hand water pump that stood in the yard.
By the shouts and cries coming from the ball field, Ruth knew that the children had heard the bell and seen the smoke. By school age, every Amish child knew what to do in case of a fire, and she was certain they would arrive in seconds. She pumped hard on the handle of the water pump, filling the bucket that always sat there, and then ran back to dash the water onto the front wall of the school. Two of the older boys pounded up behind her. Toby Troyer pulled off his shirt and beat at the flames with it. Vernon Beachy grabbed the empty bucket from Ruth’s hands and raced back to refill it.
Ruth’s mother directed the fire-fighting efforts and instructed the older girls to take the smaller children back to where Susanna waited so that they would be out of danger.
Two of the Beachy boys carried the rain barrel to the other side of the schoolhouse and splashed water against the wall. Other boys used their lunch buckets to carry water. One moment they seemed as if they were winning the battle, but the next moment, flames would shoot up in a new spot. Someone passed her a bucket of water, and Ruth rushed in to throw it on the porch roof. As long as the roof didn’t catch fire, the building might be saved. Abruptly, a sensation of heat washed up over her. She glanced down to see that sparks had ignited the hem of her apron.
As she reached down frantically to tear off the smoldering apron, strong hands closed around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Before she could utter a protest, Ruth found herself thrown onto the ground and roughly rolled over and over in the grass. Her bonnet came off, her hairpins came loose, and her hair tumbled down her back.
“Are you trying to kill yourself? Didn’t you see your apron on fire?” A stranger with the face of an angel lifted her into his arms, and gazed into her face.
Ruth couldn’t catch her breath. All she could do, for a second, was stare into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Behind her she heard the shouts of male voices, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the eyes.
“Are you all right?”
She swallowed hard, unable to find her voice, and nodded as she began to cough.
“You scared me half to death,” he murmured, still holding her against him, his body as hot against hers as the flames of the fire behind them.
“Is she hurt?” Mam laid a hand on Ruth’s arm as her rescuer backed away from the smoking building.
The sound of her mother’s voice brought her back to the reality of the situation. “Put me down,” she ordered, embarrassed now. “I’m fine.”
“Her apron was on fire. Her clothes would have gone up next,” he explained, lowering Ruth gently until her bare feet touched the ground.
“It looks like the fire’s almost out,” Mam said, turning to see Roman and one of the older boys spraying the back wall with fire extinguishers. “Thank goodness they were able to climb in the window and get the extinguishers.”
Ruth snatched off her ruined apron and accepted her Kapp that Mam handed her. Flustered, she stuffed her loose hair up in the dirty Kapp, stabbing the pins she had left into the hastily gathered knot of red hair.
“You sure you’re all right?” The beautiful stranger was beside her again. He cupped a strong hand under her chin, tilted her head up and looked boldly into her face.
Ruth bristled and brushed away his hand. The man staring at her was no angel and entirely too handsome for his own good. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with butter-yellow hair that tumbled over one eye and a dimple on his square chin. He was clean-shaven, she noticed, so he wasn’t married, although he was certainly old enough.
She choked and coughed again, more flustered by his familiarity than by the smoke still lingering in her mouth and lungs.
“Eli Lapp.” He offered his hand to her the way the English did, but she didn’t take it.
Another flush of embarrassment crept across her face.
“And you must be Ruth, Hannah’s daughter,” he said, letting his hand drop, but still grinning.
Ruth looked to her mother, feeling a betrayal of sorts. Mam knew this Eli? How did he know Mam? How did he know Ruth?
A hint of unease flashed across her mother’s face, quickly replaced with her normal calm. “Eli is Roman’s sister’s son. He’s come from Belleville, Pennsylvania, to work for Roman. We met at the chair shop yesterday. Thank the Lord he was close enough to help. You might have been badly burned.”
“I didn’t need rescuing,” she protested. She didn’t want to be beholden to this arrogant stranger who made her feel so foolish. “I saw the sparks. I was taking my apron off when he threw me on the grass.”
“Nevertheless, I thank God that he sent someone to watch over you.” Mam squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Mam turned to face the school. The fire seemed to be out, and the men had set aside the fire extinguishers. “I just don’t see how this could have happened. We haven’t had a fire in the stove in weeks, and we have no electricity.”
“I’d say somebody started it,” Eli replied. “That’s how this kind of thing usually happens.”
Immediately, Ruth thought of Irwin Beachy, who she’d seen running away from the school, but she didn’t say anything. Irwin had a reputation for causing trouble. He’d been a thorn in Mam’s classroom ever since he’d come from Ohio to live with his cousins after his parents had died. But Irwin could have just been frightened by the fire. It would be wrong to accuse him, especially in front of this Eli.
“It was good you came when you did,” Mam said to Roman as he approached. “God must have sent you. If it wasn’t for you, we might have lost the school.”
“We were delivering a table to Esther Mose. We heard the bell.” Roman glanced at Ruth. “Good you thought to ring it.” He slapped Eli’s shoulder. “And good my nephew saw Ruth’s clothes catch fire.”
“Glad to be of service.” Eli stared boldly at Ruth and she felt heat wash over her again. “I’d hate to see such a pretty face burned.”
Ruth felt so self-conscious that she wanted to melt into the grass. “We’re thankful God sent you to save the school,” she said stiffly.
“No lives were lost and no one was injured,” Mam said. “Wood can be replaced.” She straightened her shoulders. “It appears we’ll be in need of a good carpenter. We’re nearly at the end of the school term, and the children can’t miss any days, especially those who are graduating.”
Eli winked at Ruth. Even with her face smudged with soot and her red hair all in a tangle, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on. She had the cutest little freckled nose and a berry-colored mouth. She wasn’t very tall; her head came barely to the top of his shoulder, but she was slim and neatly put together in her modest blue dress. But most of all, he was drawn to her eyes, nutmeg brown with dashes of cinnamon and ginger. “Aren’t you a little old to still be in school?” he teased.
“I am not in school,” she corrected him. “My mother forgot her dinner bucket, and I came to bring it to her.”
He grinned mischievously. Ruth wasn’t just pretty, she was saucy. A man didn’t come across too many saucy Amish girls where he came from. Mostly, they were quiet and meek. Hannah Yoder’s daughter was different, not just a pretty face and a tidy body. She had spirit, and he liked her at once. “If I thought you would bring my lunch, I might forget it, too.”
Chapter Two
The hanging oil lamp cast a warm golden light over the Yoder kitchen as Ruth’s family prepared for supper that evening. This was her favorite part of the day, and despite the near-tragedy of the fire, she found sweet comfort in the familiar odors of baking bread and the clatter of dishes and silverware.
Dutifully, Ruth helped her sisters carry food to the old trencher table that Dat’s great-grandfather had crafted. The kitchen was Plain, spacious and as neat as the starched white Kapp Mam wore to Sunday services under her black bonnet.
Ruth was carrying two steaming bowls of corn chowder to the table when she heard a knock on the back door.
“Whoever could that be?” Mam asked.
Anna placed an iron skillet of fresh-baked biscuits on top of the stove. “I’ll get it.”
Ruth had a strange feeling she knew who the unexpected visitor was, and she hurried to the window over the sink and tugged back the corner of the yellow chintz curtain. The minute she saw him, she dropped the curtain and spun around, leaning against the sink. “Don’t answer it!” she called, panic fluttering in her chest.
“Don’t answer it?” Anna laughed as she walked toward the back door. “Ruth, what’s gotten into you? You hit your head when that boy rolled you around in the grass today?”
Susanna giggled and covered her mouth with a chubby hand. Nothing was said or went on in Susanna’s presence that wasn’t repeated later to anyone who would listen.
“No, I didn’t hit my head,” Ruth whispered loudly. She felt silly and shaky at the same time, as if she’d played ring-around-the-rosy too long with her nephew. “It’s supper time. Just let him go.”
“Him?” Anna raised a blond eyebrow and Susanna giggled again.
Eli heard the sound of feminine voices on the other side of the door and yanked his straw hat off. Then, feeling silly, he dropped it back on his head. What was he doing? He wasn’t courting the girl; he’d just stopped by after work to check on her. Okay, so it wasn’t on his way home, but it was the proper thing to do, wasn’t it? To check on a girl after she’d nearly caught her clothes on fire?
Eli groaned. Who was he kidding? He knew very well Ruth was fine. She’d made that quite clear at the school yard. He should never have come to the Yoder house. When he had left Belleville, he’d sworn off pretty girls. They were nothing but trouble. Trouble, that was what it was that had led him here tonight, and if he had any sense at all, he’d turn and run before the door opened.
That was the smart thing to do. Eli took a step back, cramming his hat down farther on his head. A smart man would run.
He was just turning away when he heard the doorknob, and he spun back, yanking off his hat again. In his mind, he already saw Ruth, pretty as a picture, smiling up at him, thanking him for rescuing her from certain death today. He smiled as the door opened.
But it wasn’t Ruth, and he took a step back in surprise, nearly tripping down the step. Definitely not Ruth. This girl was taller and far rounder and not nearly so gentle on the eyes….
She looked as startled as he felt.
“H-hi.” Her round cheeks reddened as she wiped her hands on her apron, a smile rising on the corners of her lips.
He had that kind of effect on girls. They smiled a lot, giggled when they looked at him. “H-hi,” he echoed, feeling completely ridiculous. He heard someone whisper loudly from inside.
“Tell him I’m not here.”
The girl at the door smiled more broadly, bringing dimples to her cheeks, and she took a step toward him, practically filling the doorway so he couldn’t see inside.
Eli took another step back. That had to be Ruth he’d heard. It had sounded like her.
“Bet you’re Eli,” the girl said, crossing her arms over her plump chest.
He nodded, wishing more with every second that he’d taken that opportunity to run. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” He looked down at his scuffed boots, then up at her again. “I…stopped by on my way home just to see…to make sure Ruth was all right,” he stammered, and then started again. “You know, with the fire and all.”
“Just on your way home from the chair shop?” She nodded, still smiling. She knew very well his uncle’s farm wasn’t on his way home.
He didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t seem to bother her.
“I’m Anna, Ruth’s sister.” The big girl glanced over her shoulder. “We’re just sitting down to supper. Would you like to come in? We’ve got plenty.”
“Anna!” came Ruth’s voice from inside, followed by more giggles.
For a second Eli was tempted. The smell of fresh biscuits made his stomach growl. Supper with Ruth would make the day just about perfect.
But she was a pretty girl, and he was supposed to be staying away from pretty girls.
“No. Thank you.” He took another step back, making sure he hit the step. “I need to get home. Aunt Fannie will be expecting me. I just wanted to check to be sure she was okay. Ruth.” Somehow his hat had gotten in his hand again, and he gestured lamely toward the house.
“She’s fine,” Anna said sweetly. “She really appreciates you putting the fire out on her apron and saving her from burning to death in front of all the children.”
“Anna, please!” Ruth groaned from behind the door.
Eli had to suppress a grin. “Well, good night.”
“Good night.” Anna waved.
Eli nodded, stuck his hat back on his head, turned and made a hasty retreat before he got himself into any more trouble.
The minute Anna shut the door, Ruth grabbed her arm. “What are you doing inviting him to supper?” she whispered, not wanting Mam to hear her. In the Yoder household, there was always room for another at the table.
“He’s very cute,” Anna said. “He was just checking on you. He wanted to make sure you were all right.” She grabbed the biscuits to put on the table. “I think he likes you. Susanna said she thought he liked you.”
Ruth’s heart was still fluttering in her chest. The idea of a boy that good-looking liking her was certainly not a possibility. Boys like Eli liked girls like her sister Leah. Beautiful girls. Or they liked exciting girls like Miriam. Ruth knew she was attractive enough, but she was the steady girl, the good girl. She wasn’t beautiful or exciting.
“Supper time,” Mam called with authority, looking from Anna to Ruth.
Mam never missed a thing, but luckily, she said nothing about Eli being at the door. Ruth didn’t want to talk about Eli. Not ever. She just wanted to pretend the whole thing with her apron catching fire had never happened. It was too embarrassing.
“I hope there’s enough here,” Anna said, when they’d finished silent grace.
“This is plenty, daughter.”
“It all looks delicious, Anna,” Ruth said, finding her normal voice. Seated here at the table with her family, she could push thoughts of Eli Lapp and all her tumbling emotions out of her head. “But then everything you make is delicious.”
Anna smiled, always grateful for a compliment. Cooking seemed to be what she lived for. Ruth cared deeply for Anna, but even a sister’s loving eye couldn’t deny the truth that Anna’s features were as ordinary as oatmeal. Her mouth was too wide, and her round cheeks as rosy as pickled beets. Anna was what Mam called a healthy girl, tall and sturdy with dimpled elbows and wide feet. The truth was, Anna took up twice the room in the buggy as her twin Miriam.
Ruth knew the neighbors whispered that Anna would never marry but would be the daughter to stay home and care for her mother in her old age, but she thought they were wrong. Surely there was a good man somewhere out there who would appreciate Anna for who she was and what she had to offer.
“That was Eli Lapp at the door just wanting to make sure Ruth was all right. He was on his way home from the chair shop.” Anna cut her gaze at Ruth.
Miriam nearly choked on her chowder. “That was Eli Lapp from Belleville at the door?” She looked at their mother. “Dorcas said he rides a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Aunt Martha saw him.”
“He’s allowed to if he hasn’t joined the church yet,” Anna offered. “Dinah said he’s rumspringa. You know those Pennsylvania Amish are a lot more liberal with their young people than our church.”
Susanna’s eyes widened. “Rump-spinga? What’s that?”
“Rumspringa,” Mam corrected gently. “Some Amish churches allow their teenage boys and girls a few years of freedom to experiment with worldly ways before they commit their lives to God. Anna is right. So long as Eli hasn’t yet been baptized, he can do what he wants, within reason.”
“Rumspringa,” Susanna repeated.
“He’s wild is what he is.” Miriam’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s what everyone is saying. Handsome and wild.”
Ruth’s throat tightened. She was just starting to feel calmer, and now here they were talking about that boy again. It was almost as bad as having him right here at the supper table! Why was Miriam teasing her like this? She knew very well Ruth wasn’t interested in Eli Lapp…not in any boy.
“Let us eat before everything is cold.” Mam didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t have to. All eyes turned to their plates, and for several loud ticks of the mantel clock, there was no sound but the clink of forks and spoons against Mam’s blue-and-white ironstone plates and the loud purring of Susanna’s tabby cat under the table.
They were just clearing away the dishes when a knock came at the kitchen door. “Who can that be now?” Miriam asked. “Think it’s Eli Lapp again?”
Anna and Miriam exchanged glances and giggled. Ruth stepped into the hall, seriously considering marching straight up the stairs to an early bedtime.
“I’ll get it.” Anna bustled for the door.
“Ne. I’ll get it.” Mam straightened her Kapp before answering the door.
When Ruth peeked around the corner, she was relieved to see that it was Samuel Mast, their neighbor.
He plucked at his well-trimmed beard as he stepped into the kitchen. “You’re eating. I should have waited.”
“Ne, ne,” Mam said. “You come in and have coffee and Anna’s rhubarb pudding with us. You know you are always welcome. Did Roman say how much the repairs on the school would cost?”
Anna carried a steaming mug of coffee to Dat’s place. Since Dat’s death, the seat was always reserved for company, and Samuel often filled it.
Ruth thought Samuel was sweet on Mam, but her mother would certainly deny it. Samuel was a God-fearing man with a big farm and a prize herd of milk cows; he was also eight years younger than Mam. Nevertheless, Ruth observed, he came often and stayed late, whenever someone could watch his children for the evening.
Samuel was a widower and Mam a widow. With Dat two years in the grave and Samuel’s wife nearly four, it was time they both remarried. Everyone said so. But Ruth didn’t believe her mother was ready to take that step, not even for solid and hardworking Samuel.
The trouble was, Ruth thought, Mam couldn’t discourage Samuel’s visits without hurting his feelings. They all valued his friendship. He was a deacon in their church, not a bishop, as Dat had been, but a respected and good man. Everyone liked him. Ruth liked him, just not as a replacement for her father.
And now Samuel would be here all evening again, delaying Ruth’s plans for a serious conversation with Mam about Irwin Beachy running from the fire. She didn’t want to make accusations without proof, but she couldn’t keep this from her mother. If Irwin had started the blaze, something would have to be done. But now there would be no chance to get Mam alone before bedtime. Samuel had settled in Dat’s chair, where he would stay until the clock struck eleven and Mam began pulling down the window shades. Talking to her mother about Irwin would have to wait until tomorrow.
Maybe that was a better idea anyway. Ruth was still flustered. First the incident at the school with that Eli, and then him showing up at their door asking for her. This had been a terrible day, and that wild Pennsylvania boy hadn’t made it any better.
Every Friday, three of the Yoder girls took butter, eggs, flowers and seasonal produce to Spence’s Auction and Bazaar in Dover, where they rented a table and sold their wares to the English. They would rise early so that they could set up their stand before the first shoppers of the day came to buy food from the Amish Market and prowl through the aisles of antiques, vegetables and yard sale junk. If the girls were lucky, they would sell out before noon.
The income was important to the household. There were items that they needed that Mam’s salary couldn’t cover. And no matter how tight the budget, each girl who worked was allowed to take a portion of the profit for her marriage savings or to buy something that she wanted. The sisters shared equally with Susanna, who always did her best to help.
Susanna loved the auction. She liked to watch the English tourists and she loved to poke through the dusty tables of glass dogs and plastic toys in the flea market. Today, Susanna had made a real find, an old Amish-style rag doll without a face. The doll had obviously had many adventures. Somewhere she’d lost her Kapp and apron, but Ruth promised that she would sew Dolly a new wardrobe and assured her sister that this doll was Plain enough to please even the bishop.
Today had been a slow day. They hadn’t sold everything, and it was long past lunchtime. Now it was clouding up in the west, and it looked to Ruth as if they might get an afternoon thunderstorm.
Across the way, Aunt Martha and Cousin Dorcas were already packing up their baked-goods stall. Ruth was just about to suggest to Miriam that they leave when, suddenly, there was a loud rumble.
Heads whipped around as Eli Lapp came roaring down the driveway between the lines of stalls on a battered old motorbike. Ruth almost laughed in spite of herself at the sight of him on the rickety contraption. Even she could see that it was no Harley motorcycle, as Aunt Martha had claimed. It was an ancient motorized scooter, hand-painted in awful shades of yellow, lime and black.
