"i think," said richard, judiciously, "i'll carry you up to the barn and wash you off; your mother might think you were permanently disfigured if she saw you now."

sarah was truly a forlorn-looking object, but he tucked her under his arm and set off for the barn, trying in vain to soothe her as they went. sarah wept continuously and only stopped when she was put down on the barn floor. she stopped then because someone was making more noise than she could possibly make.

"i don't want to hear another word," mr. hildreth was saying in a cold, loud voice. "not another word. you left those grain bins open and the least you can do is to admit it like a man."

"i did not leave them open!" warren's voice was as passionate and shaken as the other's was cold. "i tell you i did not! i haven't been in the barn this morning, except once to get the oil can. i wasn't near the bins."

richard was pumping water into a basin and sarah was glad he was not looking at her; she had forgotten to put the lids of the grain bins down! the door of the small washroom was jerked violently open and warren strode in. mr. hildreth had evidently terminated the argument by leaving the barn.

"hello, you look about as amiable as a thunder storm," richard greeted his chum. "got a clean handkerchief handy?"

warren grimly extended a clean square.

"what's the matter with sarah?" he asked curiously.

"oh, she's had a hard morning—thought i'd wash off some of the worst of it before she scared everyone at the house into fits," explained richard, beginning gently on sarah's face, with the clean handkerchief dipped in water. "what was the row?"

warren's face darkened. he bit his lip.

"mr. hildreth found the whole flock of hens having a thanksgiving dinner out of the grain bins this morning," he said in a tone which he strived to make light and even. "he insists i left the lids up and i am just as sure i didn't. in a moment of madness i might leave one up, but i never had all the bins open at the same time since i've worked here."

"if mr. hildreth had a grain of sense," pronounced richard, looking dubiously at sarah who still presented a sad appearance notwithstanding his ministrations, "he'd know better than to accuse you. of course some of these children have been fooling around the bins."

sarah jumped at this uncanny penetration. she wanted nothing in the world so much as to get out of that washroom, away from richard's straightforward gaze.

she edged carefully toward the door—but there was to be no escape.

"sarah, were you in the barn this morning?" asked richard.

her answer was a look that doctor hugh would have been able to instantly interpret—it meant that sarah had retreated into one of her obstinate, sulky silences and had made up her mind not to be forced into speech.

richard turned and shot the bolt across the door.

"were you in the barn this morning?" he repeated. "answer me—but i know you were; and you must have left the grain bins open."

sarah remained silent. richard took a step toward the obdurate little figure, but warren's voice halted him.

"quit it, rich," he said quietly. "open that door. run along, sarah, and next time you climb an apple tree, have a pillow on the ground ready to catch you."

sarah stepped over the sill, turned around, seemed about to speak and then went silently out of the barn. she heard richard say something and warren's reply:

"oh, what difference does it make, if she did?"

mrs. willis knew what to do for the yellow jacket stings and she knew how to cure scratched hands and arms and soothe aching little heads. she knew, too, the signs of a hurt heart—when it was sarah's. shirley thought her sister was merely "cranky" when she pushed her out of the swing and rosemary decided to let sarah severely alone when that small girl hurled her music from the piano rack and began a violent performance of "chop sticks." but mrs. willis waited patiently.

it can not be denied that sarah made the remainder of the day a veritable "blue monday" for her family. secure in the privileges accorded her as an invalid, she quarreled with shirley and rosemary, drove winnie to distraction with repeated requests for cookies and lemonade and answered mrs. hildreth snappishly when that good woman stopped in for a moment's chat and generally behaved, as winnie put it "like all possessed."

and yet, when rosemary announced at supper that richard and warren were going to walk to the "center" to see a man at the creamery and that they would be back before dark and had said the girls might go with them, sarah's refusal to go immediately convinced her sisters that she must be really ill.

they set off as soon as the meal was over, rosemary and shirley and the two boys, and sarah curled herself, a disconsolate little heap, in the porch swing. and there her mother found her and in less than two minutes had the whole story, from the pathetic beginning. "the hen was awfully sick, mother," down to the "queer feelings" sarah had experienced when richard, always so good-natured and kind, had turned into an entirely different person.

"and i'm afraid of mr. hildreth," wailed sarah, the tears flowing again as she ended her recital. "he'll yell at me, if i tell him, the way he did at warren."

"why no," said mrs. willis, in the most matter-of-fact tone. "why no, he won't, sarah. certainly not. and you're not one bit afraid of him. he'll he sitting out on the porch now, smoking his pipe and quite ready to listen to whatever you have to tell him. you don't want mother to go with you, do you?"

"of course not," said sarah, almost as matter-of-factly. "i'll go now, before the boys get back, mother."

and away she marched to the bungalow, confidently, if not cheerfully. she had meant to ask her mother whether it would be necessary to confess that she had been the one who left the bins open, but mrs. willis had so evidently taken for granted that sarah meant to do this at once, that the question had never been asked. well, if mr. hildreth wasn't going to yell at her and if she wasn't afraid of him—and her mother had said he wouldn't and she wasn't—there was no earthly reason why she should not admit that she had been careless.

it all happened exactly as mrs. willis had said. mr. hildreth was sitting on his porch, smoking comfortably and resting after a hard day. he was surprised to see sarah, but he did not yell at her. instead he listened silently while she stammered out that she had been to blame for the hens feasting in the bins. she told him about the sick hen and she outlined her eventful day, culminating in the tumble from the apple tree and richard's attempt to render first aid in the washroom.

"well," mr. hildreth spoke for the first time, when she had finished. "well, i'm glad you came to me and told me—though that's the natural thing to do. own up when you're wrong—isn't it?"

"is it?" asked sarah doubtfully.

"only square thing to do," the farmer assured her. "i'll tell warren before i turn in to-night, then we'll be above board all around. you like animals, don't you?" he added suddenly.

"when i grow up," she announced, "i'm not going to do a thing but take care of animals. i'm going to have a farm, like yours, mr. hildreth, and i'm going to have seven automobiles with men to drive 'em. they'll go through all the cities and take the poor sick horses and dogs and cats and—and birds and things and bring 'em back to my farm. then i'll doctor them up and cure them."

"so you think you'll be a doctor, hey?" said the farmer lazily.

"an animal doctor," sarah affirmed. "i won't take care of sick folks, 'cause they're cross; shirley is going to be that kind of a doctor maybe. animals are never cross, no matter how sick they are. did you know that, mr. hildreth?"

"come to think of it, i do," mr. hildreth admitted, enjoying the conversation immensely. "but where'll you get money to run this farm, sarah? don't you think you ought to raise some crops?"

sarah pondered.

"rich and warren can do that," she decided easily. "they'll be through agricultural college by then and perhaps they'll like to run my farm. but warren will have to buy a tractor, because i won't let my horses plow. none of the animals are going to work, when i take care of them."

mr. hildreth glanced at her queerly.

"you're just like the rest," he said grimly. "you think of work as something to side-step, don't you? let me tell you, sarah, that unless you give these animal friends of yours something to do and train them to do it regularly, you will have to spend all your days dosing them."

"you mean they'll be sick?" asked sarah, worried at once.

"of course they'll be sick," declared mr. hildreth. "animals and people need work to keep them well. ask your brother."

"then i'll let my animals work just enough," said sarah thoughtfully. "not too much, but just enough. and maybe i'll let warren plow with the horses."

"i would, if i were you," agreed mr. hildreth. "you work pretty hard yourself, don't you, sarah?"

sarah stared at him suspiciously. apparently he was serious.

"of course," continued mr. hildreth, "you call it play. but when i see you flying over this farm and trying to be in two places at once and cram half a hundred experiences into one short day, i think you work as hard as i do. maybe harder. don't you ever get tired, sarah?"

"when i go to bed," responded that active person. "but i'm not tired when i first go," she added hastily. "mother or hugh or winnie are always making me go to bed before i'm sleepy. i want to study the insects on the lawn, but how can i when i have to go to bed?"

"you're not the first person who has wanted to turn night into day," said mr. hildreth calmly. "it's lucky for some of us that you're not successful. if we had to keep an eye on you all night, sarah, as well as during the waking hours, think how little else we'd get done."

sarah had a shrewd suspicion that he was laughing at her. she turned to go.

"wait a minute—wouldn't you like a pet?" said the farmer quickly.

"oh, yes!" replied sarah.

"i was thinking you might like a baby pig," mr. hildreth informed her. "there's one in the last litter that isn't getting a fair chance. he's a runt and crowded out. if you want to take him and bring him up on a bottle, you can have him for your own."

"i'll take him," said sarah quickly. "i can learn how to feed him, can't i? and he can sleep with me—or at least in my room—i knew a girl who had a little puppy and he slept in her doll's bed. thank you ever so much, mr. hildreth."

so it was arranged that sarah was to have her pig in the morning and she and mr. hildreth parted excellent friends.

she did not go back to the house but, instead, started off down the road over which, she knew, warren and richard, rosemary and shirley, must come. she had walked perhaps half a mile, when she saw them.

sarah became unaccountably shy. she walked more and more slowly and, reaching rosemary, who was ahead, she found she had nothing to say.

"hello, dear," rosemary greeted her, wondering why sarah had changed her mind and come to meet them. "do you feel better?"

"come back and walk with me, sarah," said warren pleasantly, for he had determined to put sarah at her ease about the grain bins.

"a fuss like that is nothing to worry about," he had told richard, "and i don't like to see a kid unhappy over such trifles."

sarah waited till the other three were a little ahead and then she slipped a confiding hand into warren's.

"i told mr. hildreth," she whispered, "and he wasn't cross one bit; and i'm going to have a baby pig for my own and bring it up on a bottle."

warren's face was as bright as the one she lifted to his.

"why sarah willis!" he said joyfully. "why sarah! you went to mr. hildreth about those silly grain bins? you needn't have done that—i meant to tell you not to worry. but, of course, i'm glad you did tell him."

"what are you talking about?" demanded shirley, looking back. "did sarah tell mr. hildreth something?"

richard's glance rested sharply on sarah. he smiled, grasping what had happened with his usual quickness.

"you're a brick, sarah!" he complimented her. "a brick—that's what you are."

but sarah was eager to tell about her pig and warren wished to change the topic so no more was said then. instead richard addressed himself to the three willis girls collectively.

"i think you've about explored rainbow hill," he announced, "at least sarah has. she's exhausted its possibilities, if i'm a fair judge. i think you need some new interests."

"yes," agreed shirley with perfect gravity and not the slightest idea of his meaning, "yes we do, richard."

they all laughed, but richard was not to side-tracked.

"there's the gay family," he said. "you don't know them, but some of the children must be about your own age."

rosemary thought "gay" a pretty name and said so while sarah reproved her. "gay isn't a name, silly; it means they always have a good time. doesn't it, richard?"

"well no, not in this case," replied richard, "but i'm going over there to-morrow morning and, if you like, you may come along and get acquainted."