They spent the morning down at the brook¹. Shirley was enchanted² to be allowed to help build a dam—the height of his ambition, Doctor Hugh whimsically told them. Shirley paddled around in the brook and brought him stones and he laid them in a chain that made a crude dam, both getting very warm and very wet and having a thoroughly³ enjoyable time of it.  
Rosemary had brought the camera and snapped a dozen poses of the sunny-haired Shirley as she gamboled about with her skirts tucked up to her waist, looking like a particularly chubby⁴ elf. Doctor Hugh had done something to the camera that would, Rosemary was sure, correct her tendency to overexpose a film and the results fully⁵ justified⁶ her faith; whether it was due to his manipulation of the "innards" of the camera or his instructions to her, the prints were exceptionally good and clear.
 
Sarah, of course, devoted⁷ her morning to scrubbing the pig. The doctor's shouts of laughter could not persuade her to curtail⁸ the ceremony in the slightest detail. She had brought soap and towels and brush with her and she gravely scrubbed and rinsed⁹ and dried Bony and put him out in the sun to dry.
 
"He'll bake," protested Doctor Hugh, when, the pig's bath finished, Sarah arranged him on a dry towel in the sun. "You'll have roast pork, Sarah, if you're not careful."
 
"No I won't," answered Sarah confidently, straightening the pig's legs for him since he did not offer to move.
 
"Can't he even grunt¹⁰?" demanded Doctor Hugh who had never seen an animal so willing to be waited upon.
 
"Of course he can grunt—" Sarah was indignant. "He can do anything."
 
"When the sun dries him on that side, she'll turn him over on the other," whispered Rosemary. "You'll see."
 
The dam was built, the roll of films used up and Bony dry and immaculate by the time Winnie rang the bell to tell them that lunch was ready.
 
"We must have a picnic," said Doctor Hugh as they went up to the house, he carrying Shirley, who objected to putting on her socks and sandals, and Sarah carrying the pig with almost as much care. "I haven't been to a picnic in years."
 
That afternoon he carried his mother off for a drive in the car, and the three girls were left to their own devices. Rosemary's natural inclination¹¹ was to find Jack¹² and ask him how his day was going, but mindful of her brother's advice, she resolved to wait. She was playing jack stones with Shirley and Sarah when Mrs. Hildreth came hurrying across the lawn.
 
"Rosemary," she said, fanning her flushed face with her apron¹³, "I wonder if you'd do me a favor. All the men are busy and I couldn't ask them to drop their work for such a trifle; and I have to grease the chickens for lice, so I can't go myself."
 
Mrs. Hildreth always seemed to choose the hottest days for the most unlovely tasks, reflected Rosemary, but Sarah held a different opinion.
 
"I'll come hold 'em for you, Mrs. Hildreth," she offered, rising in such haste that she almost knocked Shirley off the step. "I love to see you grease chickens!"
 
"All right, I do need somebody to help me," said Mrs. Hildreth gratefully. "Rosemary, Miss Clinton telephoned me this morning she wanted a dozen fresh eggs—why do they always say 'fresh eggs'?" she broke off irritably¹⁴. "'Tisn't likely I'd go out and get her a dozen stale eggs, even if I could find 'em. Well, she wants them this afternoon and I hate to disappoint her. She's kind of used to getting what she wants and everybody feels sorry for her. I know you like to walk and when I saw your mother and brother going off in the car, I says, 'Maybe she won't mind walking over there for me, having nothing else to do.'"
 
"I'll go," said Rosemary pleasantly, "but where does this Miss Clinton live?"
 
Mrs. Hildreth gave minute directions for finding the house. It was close to the road, the same road that went past the Gay farm, but in the opposite direction. It wasn't over a quarter of a mile and Rosemary was to knock on the door and when someone called "Come in" to lift the latch¹⁵ and enter.
 
"I'll take Shirley with me," said Rosemary, "and you'll tell Winnie, won't you, Mrs. Hildreth? She went down to the mail box at the cross-roads to mail a letter and she'll wonder where we are when she comes back."
 
Mrs. Hildreth promised to tell Winnie and she and Sarah departed to begin their war on the chicken pests while Rosemary and Shirley set off to follow the back road to the little yellow house where Miss Clinton lived.
 
They found it without difficulty, knocked and heard someone call "Come in," just as Mrs. Hildreth had predicted.
 
"How do you do?" said the same voice when they stepped directly into a large square room. "I'm very glad to see you."
 
A very tiny old lady sat in a wheel chair in the center of the room. Her skin was almost as yellow as the paint on the house and considerably¹⁶ more wrinkled. She had bright black eyes that reminded Rosemary of a bird and little, eager claw-like hands that were strangely bird-like, too. She beamed at the girls, plainly delighted to have company.
 
"I'm glad you came," she said when Rosemary had given her the eggs and explained they were from Rainbow Hill. "Mrs. Hildreth told me the Hammonds rented their house this summer. Sit down and we'll talk. Let the little girl play with the toys in the cabinet—she won't hurt 'em."
 
The cabinet stood in one corner of the room and was well stocked with toys, some new, some well-worn. Shirley sat down on the floor and amused herself contentedly¹⁷ while Miss Clinton kept up a running fire of comment till Rosemary's wrist watch showed half-past four.
 
"I wish you'd come see me again," said the old lady wistfully. "I get lonesome for someone to talk to. I get around pretty good in this chair and I have lots of books and papers to read; but I like to talk and summers everyone is so busy they don't think to drop in."
 
"I'll drop in," promised Rosemary impulsively¹⁸. "Mother would come to see you, too, but she couldn't walk this far; perhaps Hugh, my brother, will bring her some day."
 
"Let me have my knitting, if you're really going," said Miss Clinton regretfully. "It's there in that basket beside you. That's my sixth bedspread, or will be, when I get it finished."
 
"What beautiful work!" exclaimed Rosemary as the old lady spread the knitted square over her knee. "How fine it is—isn't it very difficult?"
 
"Not a bit," Miss Clinton assured her. "I do it when my eyes get tired of reading print. I'll teach you how to make a spread, if you'll come see me now and then," she offered quickly. "They tell me they're worth seventy-five dollars apiece but I never sell mine; I give them to relatives and friends."
 
Rosemary and Shirley said good by and were half way down the path when the door was opened and Miss Clinton called after them:
 
"Bring the little girl with you, too; I'll get her something new to play with when she gets tired of the cabinet toys."
 
"Rosemary," said Shirley, skipping happily—she seldom walked, her brother said, but ran or hopped¹⁹ her way along—"Rosemary, what is there?"
 
"Where?" said Rosemary, puzzled.
 
"There," insisted Shirley, pointing behind her.
 
"Why, nothing—except Miss Clinton's house—you know that, Shirley," replied Rosemary.
 
"No, not Miss Clinton's house," said Shirley, shaking her head. "Next to that, Rosemary."
 
"You mean around the curve?" asked Rosemary, for the road curved sharply beyond the big maples²⁰ that marked the line of Miss Clinton's property.
 
Shirley nodded.
 
"What is there?" she repeated.
 
"I don't know, dear," Rosemary admitted. "I've never been that far. Do you want to go and see? We have time, I think."
 
Shirley slipped a small hand into her sister's.
 
"Let's go," she said eagerly.
 
Rosemary had often felt a curiosity to know what was beyond a bend in a road, but she never remembered making a deliberate attempt to gratify that feeling. Shirley, having been made curious, had no mind to go away unsatisfied.
 
They turned and walked back, Rosemary hoping the little old lady might not see them. But she was nowhere in sight and was, in all probability, absorbed in her knitting.
 
"Maybe the three bears live around the corner," suggested Shirley, beginning to regret he............