rosemary, seated on the lowest porch step, was outwardly "cool and calm and collected," to borrow one of winnie's favorite phrases. she was dressed all in white and doctor hugh, coming from the shed where he had put his car, noted appreciatively what a lovely dash of color the blue wool she was knitting made in the picture. it just matched her eyes, he thought.
"hello, sweetheart!" he greeted her, and then, as she raised her face to kiss him, "why, what's the matter?"
for the blue eyes were mutinous and stormy and it was easy to see that rosemary was unhappy.
"oh, hugh! don't go in right away—i never get a chance to talk to you," she said, moving over to give him room to sit on the step. "everyone will have a thousand things to tell you—it was that way last sunday. i suppose if we see you only once a week, or every other week, it's natural, but i wish i could ever talk to you without shirley or sarah asking you questions at the same time."
doctor hugh laughed as he took off his hat and dropped down beside his sister.
"seems to me you have a good deal of energy for such a warm day," he commented, running his fingers through his thick dark hair. "doesn't that breeze feel good, though! eastshore has been becalmed this week and the dust from the plastering has settled on everything in the house—i'm glad mother can't see it. and where is mother, rosemary?"
"lying down," answered rosemary, beginning to purl. "she didn't expect you for an hour. sarah and shirley went to town with warren—he had to go over and get a bolt or something, so mother let them go. how far has mr. greggs got with the building, hugh?"
"well, you know he isn't naturally swift," said the doctor cautiously, "and he and his helper have more labor troubles than any union i ever heard of—they differ continuously. but i will say that the lawn is piled high with lumber and bricks and i never come home at night that i don't have to chase a dozen boys away—kids who think i'm a grouch because i won't have them breaking their necks at my front door. jack welles says i ought to take patients wherever i find them and not be too particular."
"tell me about jack," rosemary said, smiling.
"jack is the same old jack," declared the doctor. "he works in the garden, when his father makes him, and he goes fishing as often as the law allows. i believe he and half a dozen of the high school boys are going camping next week and jack is counting on coming up here in august when i take my two weeks off. he's determined to work—asked me to speak to mr. hildreth about a job while i am here."
"warren and richard will be glad, if he does come," asserted rosemary. "they think mr. hildreth ought to have another man all the time—warren was grumbling because he had to go after the bolt this afternoon; he said it would put him back two hours."
the doctor watched the busy needles clicking placidly for several minutes. then—
"and now, as we feel a little more serene," he said quietly, "suppose you tell me what was the trouble when i came."
"the trouble?" fenced rosemary. "what trouble?"
"she thinks she can fool me," said doctor hugh, apparently addressing his remark to the solitary white hen that wandered around a bush on the lawn at that moment. "she thinks i don't know the signals—those famous storm signals. she thinks i didn't know the moment i looked at her that she wanted something she couldn't have."
"i had—an argument," admitted rosemary with hot cheeks. "it was all winnie's fault."
"yes?" said her brother politely.
"it was, hugh, honestly it was. winnie is as good as gold, but i do wish she wouldn't try to look after me, as she calls it. i can look after myself. mother would let me do lots of things, if it wasn't for winnie."
"here, here, you'll have to take out all that knitting, if you're not careful," warned the doctor, for the blue eyes were stormy again and rosemary was knitting furiously. "what was this particular argument about?"
"i want to sleep outdoors," explained rosemary. "i could take out a quilt and spread it on the grass and a blanket to cover me—i've never done it and it would be such fun. and winnie says if i must be crazy can't i wait till i get back to eastshore? as if anyone ever slept out on the grass in town where everyone can see you!"
"no, that wouldn't be exactly the thing to do," agreed doctor hugh, his lips twitching. "well, rosemary?"
"first mother said i could, and then, after winnie had talked to her, she said she thought it wouldn't be best," reported rosemary. "winnie told her a cow might step on me—and all the cows are in the barnyard or the pasture at six o'clock and never get out!—or, she said, someone might come and carry me off! and where would i be, while they were carrying me?" demanded rosemary with intense scorn. "i'd like to see anyone carry me off!"
"i hope this 'argument' didn't degenerate into a clash," said the doctor seriously. "you know how it tires mother to have to hear these quarrels, rosemary, and to be constantly called upon to act as arbitrator."
"i banged the door," confessed rosemary. "i can't help it, hugh, i always lose my temper when i argue. and winnie kept saying the same thing a hundred times—i don't see why i shouldn't sleep outdoors, do you?"
"if mother has said 'no,' there's one hard and fast reason," pronounced her brother. "but i believe in the value of experience as a teacher, especially for strong-willed little girls who are slow to learn that their own way isn't the best in the world. good gracious, that isn't sarah, is it?"
he broke off abruptly as an energetic figure advanced toward him, waving two small hands black with grease, in welcome. it was sarah, a sarah whose socks were down to her ankles and whose dress was torn and spotted with the same black grease that liberally anointed her face as well as her hands. her dark, straight hair straggled into her eyes and there was a large bump on her forehead that evidently gave her little concern.
behind her trotted shirley, a little less disheveled, a little less dirty and quite as radiantly content.
"you look nice," said rosemary severely. "i should have thought warren would have been ashamed to ride home with you—where is he? i didn't see the wagon drive past."
"mr. hildreth made him turn into the field, without going to the barn," explained sarah, standing at a safe distance from doctor hugh who would, she was sure, see the bump even under a layer of dirt. "we had lots of fun, rosemary; the wheel came off and i helped warren put it on again."
"and i had a chocolate ice cream cone," said shirley, standing on tip-toe to kiss her brother and leaving small finger marks on his collar as visible marks of her affection.
"i'd better go and get washed up," announced sarah blandly, though to her hearers' knowledge this was the first time on record she had made such a suggestion voluntarily.
"come here, sarah," said doctor hugh quietly, "i want to look at that bruise on your forehead."
"that isn't anything," sarah assured him, backing off.
"come here and let me see it," the doctor repeated and, as sarah reluctantly approached him, "how did you get it?"
"i was under the wagon," said sarah, wincing slightly as doctor hugh felt of the bruise with firm, practised fingers, "and i heard warren coming and i jumped up and hit my head."
she did not think it necessary to add that warren had requested her to stay in the road and not crawl under the broken wagon.
"all right, the skin isn't broken," announced the doctor. "but it aches a little doesn't it, dear?"
"a little," nodded sarah, winking to keep back the tears.
he put an arm around her, heedless of the dirt and grease.
"that won't last long," he promised, "and if you and shirley will go in and get washed and dressed without dawdling, i'll take you for a little drive before dinner."
"rosemary, too?" asked shirley, balancing like a butterfly on the top step.
"rosemary, too."
forgetting her aching bump, sarah followed shirley into the house with a shout, and the sound of their feet clattering up the open stairway proclaimed their intentions of not wasting a minute.
"here comes mrs. hildreth," said rosemary in a low voice. "i wish i could fix her just once—she doesn't know how to be pretty."
rosemary, with uncanny penetration, had hit upon the truth. mrs. hildreth did not know how to be pretty. she would have said she had not the time to "fuss with her looks," but it would have taken little extra time to have done her really abundant hair in a becoming style instead of the tight knot into which she invariably twisted it. and surely, if she could don that clean, starched dark calico dress in five minutes, it would have taken no longer to put on a pretty light-colored frock.
"i thought your brother would be out to spend sunday," said mrs. hildreth capably, in her high-pitched, nervous voice, "so i brought up two extra bunches of asparagus. winnie told me the doctor liked it."
"winnie has my likes and dislikes down pat," declared doctor hugh, rising and shaking hands. "will you come in, mrs. hildreth? my mother will be down in a minute."
rosemary took the asparagus and seconded the invitation.
"no, thanks, i can't stay," said mrs. hildreth, rather regretfully. "i have to tend to the chickens and get the milk pans and strainers ready and do a lot of little chores before i get supper. you use your porch a lot, don't you?"
"yes," said rosemary who, she had once told her mother, always felt as though mrs. hildreth's sharp eyes condemned her as lazy. "we all love to be out of doors."
"i'm outdoors most of the time," said mrs. hildreth, "but i don't have time to sit on the porch, unless it is sunday afternoons."
she went back to her work and rosemary, returning from delivering the asparagus to winnie, found her mother and an immaculate sarah and shirley entertaining doctor hugh. he brought the car around presently and they went for the promised drive to bennington, the pretty county seat, and back.
after dinner that evening rosemary, quite restored to good humor, was surprised to have a question put to her.
"how would you like to try sleeping outdoors to-night, rosemary?" asked doctor hugh placidly.
