“Yes,” went on Mrs. Getz, “that’s what they done!  A dumm thing like that!  And after pop and Nathaniel Puntz they had spoke their speeches where they had ready, how Teacher he wasn’t fit fur William Penn!  And after they tole how he had up and sassed pop, and him a directer yet!  And Nathaniel he tole how Absalom had heard off the Doc how Teacher he was a’ UNbeliever and says musin’ is the same to him as prayin’!  Now think!  Such conwictions as them!  And then, when the wote was took, here it come out that only pop and Nathaniel Puntz woted ag’in’ Teacher, and the other four they woted fur!  And they woted to raise his salary five a month yet!”

Tillie’s eyes dropped from her mother’s face, her chin quivered, she bit her lip, and suddenly, unable to control herself, she broke into wild, helpless laughter.

Mrs. Getz stared at her almost in consternation.  Never before in her life had she seen Tillie laugh with such abandon.

“What ails you?” she asked wonderingly.

Tillie could find no voice to answer, her slight frame shaking convulsively.

“What you laughin’ at, anyhow?” Mrs. Getz repeated, now quite frightened.

“That—­that Wyandotte hen jumped up on the sill!” Tillie murmured —­then went off into a perfect peal of mirth.  It seemed as though all the pent-up joy and gaiety of her childhood had burst forth in that moment.

“I don’t see nothin’ in that that’s anyways comical—­a Wyandotte hen on the window-sill!” said Mrs. Getz, in stupid wonder.

“She looked so—­so—­oh!” Tillie gasped, and wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron.

“You don’t take no int’rust in what I tole you all!” Mrs. Getz complained, sitting down near her stepdaughter to pick the chickens for dinner.  “I’d think it would make you ashamed fur the way you stood up fur Teacher ag’in’ your own pop here last Thursday—­fur them four directers to go ag’in’ pop like this here!”

“What reasons did they give for voting for the teacher?” Tillie asked, her hysterics subsiding.

“They didn’t give no reasons till they had him elected a’ready.  Then Adam Oberholzer he got up and he spoke how Teacher learned the scholars so good and got along without lickin’ ’em any (pop he had brung that up ag’in’ Teacher, but Adam he sayed it was fur), and that they better mebbe give him five extry a month to make sure to keep such a kind man to their childern, and one that learnt ’em so good.”

Tillie showed signs, for an instant, of going off into another fit of laughter.

“What’s ailin’ you?” her mother asked in mystification.  “I never seen you act so funny!  You better go take a drink.”

Tillie repressed herself and went on with her work.