Mrs. Hildreth may not have been as good a cook as Winnie. Whatever the reason, no one came whistling up from the bungalow¹ after dinner to suggest "Let's hear 'Old Black Joe,'" or to offer to play a game of croquet. Presently Doctor Hugh announced that he was going to walk down to see Jack², and Rosemary went with him. Sarah and Shirley were, with some difficulty, persuaded to remain behind.  
"Nobody home," was Richard's disconsolate³ greeting as he rose from the porch railing. "Mr. Hildreth has gone across fields to borrow some more crates⁴ and Mrs. Hildreth is setting bread in the kitchen. Warren has gone to the Center and Jack is nursing a grouch⁵ upstairs."
 
"Well, I came to see Jack," said the doctor. "I'll go up in a minute."
 
"He and Warren are on the outs," declared Richard frankly⁶. "Each one thinks he is a Roman candle."
 
"How perfectly⁷ horrid⁸ of Warren!" said Rosemary hotly.
 
"Warren?" echoed the bewildered Richard. "What has Warren done to you?"
 
"He hasn't done anything to me—" Rosemary's color began to rise. "But I don't think he is one bit fair to Jack."
 
Before Richard could argue this, the door opened and Jack came out. He had heard voices and perhaps wished to discourage the intention of the doctor to come up and see him. He sat down on the opposite side of the step from Rosemary and her brother and put one hand carelessly behind him.
 
"Hello!" he said grumpily.
 
"Say, those fish were fine," declared Richard, feeling his responsibility as host, since Jack did not seem moved to speech. "They were so fresh, I could almost see 'em leaping out of the brook⁹. You must have had good luck."
 
"First-rate," said the doctor. "Sorry you couldn't come up to the house for dinner, Rich."
 
"Well, I could have come," admitted Richard cautiously, "but I'm no good presenting regrets for others. Warren and Jack were peeved—"
 
"You needn't make any excuses for me," interrupted Jack coldly, holding up a throbbing¹⁰ hand behind his back.
 
"See?" said Richard with a gesture of despair. "What could a fellow do? And I'll bet Winnie cooks fish so you never forget it."
 
"She's a good cook," Doctor Hugh conceded.
 
Richard sighed. He wished Rosemary felt more talkative. In his anxiety to entertain his guests, he stumbled on a sore subject.
 
"I used to go fishing pretty often myself," he said pleasantly. "The first year we were in college, Warren and I went off by ourselves nearly every Saturday afternoon. We made friends with the State wardens¹¹ and they told us a lot of useful things. Once we saw them stock a stream—that was great. Ever see that, Jack?"
 
"No," snapped Jack, "and I'm not likely to; the only thing I'll know by the end of this summer will be how many cans of tomatoes the Goldenrod Canning Company has packed this year."
 
"How do they stock a stream?" asked Rosemary, her curiosity unloosening her tongue.
 
"Oh, they have thousands of baby fish and they ladle 'em out like so much fine gold," said Richard. "And we saw them net a pond once for carp—I wish I had more time to play around. Perhaps when Warren and I get our own farm we can carry out a few ideas of ours."
 
"What's that you're going to do when you get your own farm, Richard?" asked Mrs. Hildreth, coming out on the porch, looking warm and tired. "I declare, every summer I say I'll have the baker¹² stop here," she added. "I get so sick of baking my own bread when it's warm."
 
She did not sit down, but stood poised¹³ on the top step. Jack who had risen with the rest, kept one hand stiffly away from his body.
 
"What were you saying, Richard?" asked Mrs. Hildreth again.
 
"Oh, I was day-dreaming I guess," Richard answered. "I said that when Warren and I have our own farm, perhaps we'll have time to do some of the things we have always wanted to do."
 
Mrs. Hildreth mopped her flushed face with a handkerchief of generous size.
 
"Well, you won't," she prophesied¹⁴. "I never knew anyone who lived on a farm to have a minute's time for anything but the hardest kind of work. Even in winter when the crops are in, there's wood to get out and cut and the animals to be fed and bedded down and the fires to look after and paths to be opened and the milking to be done. It's one thing after another, all the year round."
 
Richard put one arm around the porch pillar.
 
"It could be different," he insisted. "For instance, you could buy bread—you just said so. That would save you some time."
 
"Which I should feel duty-bound to use in canning more fruit," countered Mrs. Hildreth promptly¹⁵. "I'm not so keen on work, but the way I'm made, I feel guilty if I waste a half hour."
 
"It isn't wasting time to have a little enjoyment¹⁶ and leisure," Richard declared doggedly¹⁷. "Is it, Jack?"
 
Jack a moment before had struck his hand against the porch railing, a light tap, scarcely to be noticed. But his face was white as he turned savagely¹⁸ on Richard.
 
"Work is the only thing that counts and you know it," he said fiercely. "The crops and the crops alone, are to be considered. If you kill yourself getting them in, that's a small matter; next year someone else will plant 'em again and perhaps kill himself, too."
 
"Dear me, Jack, maybe you have a little touch of the sun," said Mrs. Hildreth. "I think the doctor had better give you something to make you sleep. You will, won't you, Doctor Willis?" the good woman urged anxiously.
 
"I'm all right," said Jack.
 
"Well, I'm sure I hope so," she returned in a voice that was far from sounding convinced. "Mr. Hildreth had a brother who had a sunstroke once and he wasn't right for years. Were you working in a blaze to-day, Jack?"
 
"He wore a hat," said Richard quickly, fearful that Jack's scant¹⁹ supply of patience would be utterly²⁰ exhausted²¹. "Besides, there was a breeze in the afternoon. It wasn't a bad day at all, Mrs. Hildreth."
 
"Don't you want to sit down, Mrs. Hildreth?" suggested Rosemary, wondering how anyone could remain standing²² so long, after being on her feet virtually all day.
 
"No, I'm going down the road in a minute," Mrs. Hildreth answered. "I want to ask Mrs. Tice about some new kind of rubber rings she got for her jars. How much fruit did Winnie put up so far, Rosemary?"
 
"Why—I don't believe I know," said Rosemary with a little laugh. "She made jelly, I remember and she's been canning nearly every week; but I don't know how many quarts or pints²³ she has. Do you, Hugh?"
 
"Never counted," acknowledged the doctor lazily. "I'll warrant Winnie can tell you right off the reel, Mrs. Hildreth. She's proud of her success—I heard her tell my mother so."
 
"I'll step over and look at her shelves some day," promised Mrs. Hildreth. "Dear me, I'm tired. But if I don't go to Bertha's now, I'll never get there. Tell Mr. Hildreth I'll be right back, if he asks you where I am."
 
She went heavily down the steps and disappeared across the lawn.
 
Richard dropped with an exaggerated thud.
 
"Another minute and my ankles would have given out!" he declared. "And she thinks it is work that tired her out."
 
"Well, it is," said Rosemary. "She works from five in the morning till nearly ten at night."
 
"But she could rest, if she only knew how," Richard protested.
 
"Ah, now you have it, Rich," said Doctor Hugh. "There's a great deal in knowing how to rest."
 
"There's no use in knowing how, when you can't rest if you want to," Jack complained bitterly.
 
"That isn't a very clear sentence, Jack," said the doctor. "Explain a little, won't you?"
 
"Oh, I'm tired," Jack declared ungraciously, "and there's nothing to explain, anyway."
 
The desultory²⁴ conversation that followed was almost wholly between Rosemary and Richard. Jack was curiously²⁵ silent and Doctor Hugh, too, seemed content to listen. Finally he rose.
 
"We must be getting back," he said. "First though, I'll take a look at your hand, Jack."
 
"There's nothing the matter with it," countered Ja............