Winnie folded up a pair of stockings and dropped them into the capacious bag which hung on the arm of her chair.  
"It beats me," she said conversationally¹, "where Sarah runs to every afternoon. It's been going on now for three weeks and she shuts up like a clam² when I ask her any questions."
 
Winnie and Mrs. Willis were seated in the cool, shaded living-room with their mending. It was an intensely warm afternoon and several degrees cooler inside the house than on the porch. Winnie insisted on helping³ with the darning—she would have felt hurt had she been denied the task of mating and sorting and mending the stockings and socks for the family each week—and she took pride in assisting Mrs. Willis to keep Doctor Hugh's belongings⁴ in perfect order.
 
"Mother!" Rosemary hurried in, her hair a tangle⁵ of waves and ringlets dampened from heat and perspiration⁶, her cheeks like scarlet⁷ poppies and her eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "Mother, I've thought of something!"
 
"Rosemary leads an exciting life," Jack⁸ Welles had once declared in Mrs. Willis' hearing. "She can get all worked up about anything she happens to be thinking about."
 
Rosemary's mother remembered this speech now, smiling a little at the recollection.
 
"Richard and Warren are down in the tomato field, working their heads off in this broiling⁹ sun," said Rosemary more picturesquely¹⁰ than accurately¹¹. "And Mother, couldn't I make lemonade and take it down to them?"
 
"We have lemons," put in Winnie.
 
Mrs. Willis nodded approval.
 
"Make plenty, dear," she said cordially. "Don't put in too much sugar, for the boys don't like it so sweet; but why not wait an hour until it is cooler?"
 
"Oh, Mother, let me do it now—they'll like it when they're working hard. Where's Shirley? She could carry the cups," and Rosemary paused in her flight kitchenwards.
 
"Shirley is asleep—don't wake her," cautioned the mother. "Ask Sarah to help you, dear; she is out in the barn. And do keep out of the sun as much as you can, dear."
 
"Yes'm," promised Rosemary obediently, disappearing.
 
"I'll go crack the ice," said Winnie, rising. "There's no use in making the kitchen look like Niagara Falls, if a little forethought can prevent it."
 
Rosemary was a quick worker and a neat one, when she didn't have to chop ice, and she soon had a shiny white enamel¹² pail half filled with delicious cold lemonade. She poured out two generous glasses for her mother and Winnie and carried them in with her compliments and then set off expeditiously¹³, carrying pail, dipper and three cups, a feat¹⁴ that required her closest attention.
 
"Sarah!" she called when she reached the barn.
 
"What?" called back Sarah, not very graciously.
 
"Please come help me take some lemonade to the boys?"
 
Sarah put her head out of the barn door and eyed the pail thirstily.
 
"Let me have some?" she begged.
 
"If you'll help me carry these things," said Rosemary. "I brought three cups and there's enough lemonade for everyone."
 
"Well—all right, I'll help you," decided¹⁵ Sarah, "but I'm thirsty now."
 
"The ice will melt if you're going to talk all day," said Rosemary, the blazing sun making her more impatient than usual. "Come help me first and drink your lemonade after we get down to the tomato field."
 
Sarah darted¹⁶ back into the barn and reappeared in a moment with Bony, the pig, under her arm.
 
"Sarah Willis! You can't carry that filthy¹⁷ pig and help me lug¹⁸ this pail, too—put him down," scolded Rosemary.
 
"Bony isn't filthy—he's had a bath this morning!" flared¹⁹ Sarah. "He's just as clean as any person, so there. And I want to show Richard and Warren what he can do."
 
"You know what Hugh would say if he saw you fussing with a pig and then coming around food without washing your hands," Rosemary reminded her. "If there is one thing Hugh won't stand, it's to have you handle pets and then come to the table without scrubbing your hands. You know that, Sarah."
 
"I'm not coming to any table," insisted Sarah. "Besides Bony is clean, I tell you. If I can't bring him I won't come at all."
 
The walk down to the tomato field was long and hot, and Rosemary could not hurry unless she had someone to share the weight of the pail which would, she knew, grow heavier at each step. She capitulated.
 
"But keep Bony on the other side of you," she commanded Sarah. "I don't see why he can't walk; do you carry him everywhere he goes?"
 
Sarah tucked the pig under one arm and gave the other hand to the handle of the pail.
 
"Bony can walk, but I am saving his strength," she remarked with a dignity worthy²⁰ of Winnie. "You wait till you see what a smart pig he is, Rosemary; no one appreciates him except me."
 
Warren and Richard, bending over the long rows of tomatoes, straightened up in surprise as Rosemary's clear call came down to them.
 
"Stay up by the fence—you'll get your dress stained!" shouted Warren. "We'll come over."
 
"Ye gods, lemonade!" ejaculated Richard when he was near enough to hear the inviting²¹ tinkle²² of ice.
 
"And a pig!" grinned Warren. "Isn't Bony too heavy to cart around on a day like this, Sarah?"
 
Sarah shook her head in negation²³, but remained silent.
 
"You must be baked!" Rosemary looked with sympathy at the two flushed faces.
 
Both boys looked warm and tired, but they averred²⁴ stoutly²⁵ that no one minded the heat "after they were used to it." They declared that nothing had ever tasted as good as the lemonade.
 
"What made you think of bringing us it?" asked Warren, sitting down on an overturned crate²⁶ after his second cup and mopping his face with his handkerchief.
 
"Oh, last winter Jack Welles and the high school boys were shoveling snow, we took them hot coffee and doughnuts," said Rosemary carelessly. "I suppose I must have remembered how much they liked something warm to drink—and you like something cold just as much, don't you?"
 
"We sure do," agreed Richard warmly. "This Jack Welles is coming up next week, isn't he? Mr. Hildreth is counting on him for two weeks."
 
Rosemary moved the pail beyond the reach of Sarah who seemed to have developed an excessive thirst.
 
"Jack and Hugh are both coming next Sunday," she answered. "You'll like Jack, Warren, and so will you, Richard. He lives next door to us, you know."
 
"Well, I only hope he's used to hard work," said Richard. "............