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The sun was nearly melting across the sky that evening when Maw and I had finished the supper dishes. Because the heat and the haze had thinned down some, she chose to knit on the porch, and I sat beside her, watching the fading sunlight warm the dusty road.

"Maw?" my voice came out languidly, merging with the fading light. "Are there any...any...Amish people near town?"

She blinked in surprise. "Amish? I don't think so. Why ask, all of the sudden?"

Johnny's patched calico shirt came to mind. "I met a couple people today, and they seemed...well...old."

"Were they old?"

"Oh, no, Maw! They was young children...probably about ten years, in the woods off Morgan Road, and they was dressed real...real funny, and spoke all old-timeyish, so I just wondered..."

"The woods..." Maw trailed off, her eyes glazed. Slowly, she set down her knitting. "Did you know, your great-great grandfather, Herman St. Paul, used to own those woods? He had a farm, but after...well, after Johnny..."

"Johnny?" Johnny and Louise.

"Well, so the story goes, Herman's only son, John--Johnny--fell in love with my great-grandmother, Louise. They were young things, she only fifteen, and they used to meet in those woods every day, until one night they made plans to run away together. Herman was a wealthy farmer, a plantation owner, really, and he forbade Johnny to marry Louise, who's father owned the seed store that's been in our family forever. She was a sweet girl, but not rich enough to suit him, it seemed."

"What happened to them?" I breathed. "Did they--did they--"

"I don't know much more than that," said Maw, picking up her knitting again. "You'll have to ask your Paw, when he comes home."

The End

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