mr. robinson, recovered from his first surprise, proved to be an excellent listener. sarah told him of bony and that animal's accomplishments and he admitted that his circus did not have a trained pig. he was interested, too, to hear how she had taught the pig these tricks and sarah, quite carried away by this flattering evidence of understanding, told him a great deal more. in fact, unconsciously, she presented him a picture of the family at rainbow hill and, before she had finished, of the gay family, too. this last, to do her justice, was quite unintentional.
"i didn't mean to tell you about the gays," she cried in quick remorse. "rosemary said we must never tell a stranger about them; when a grown-up person knows how poor they are, the town will take them to the poor farm."
"now don't you be sorry," mr. robinson comforted her. "don't you be sorry for one thing you've told me. i won't let it go any further—least ways not among the town folk. i'm glad you told me about this family, downright glad. i've known what it is to live on a farm with a mortgage hanging over your head."
"have you?" asked sarah humbly, much relieved. "then maybe louisa won't care if you do know about their mortgage."
"i've been thinking," said mr. robinson slowly, "that it would be a good thing if i went with you this morning and saw the pig you've told me about; mind you, i can't promise to buy it, till i've seen it. but i'd like to look at it. and i'd like to see this gay farm—maybe that will turn out to be something i can use."
sarah did not see how he could use a farm in a circus, but she wisely refrained from asking. richard returning for her at this juncture, she introduced him to the circus agent and explained that he wanted to go back to rainbow hill with them.
richard was surprised, but cordial, and as solomon, brave in a new shoe and three tightened old ones, trotted them homeward, sarah and mr. robinson together explained their plans.
sarah's was comparatively simple. she wanted to sell bony to the circus and give the money to louisa. the pig was the most valuable possession she owned and would surely bring more money than anything else she might part with—even her five-dollar gold piece. yes, she admitted, in response to richard's questioning, she was fond of bony—but she thought he would like living with a circus.
mr. robinson's plan was more complicated. "for some time past," he said to richard, a little breathlessly, for he was stout and the wagon jolted him considerably, "for some time past, i've been on the lookout for new winter quarters for the circus. my idea has been to get a farm in a good section of the country, but of course we can't afford to pay a price a place in a good state of cultivation would bring; what we want is acreage and buildings in fair shape. this gay farm the little girl tells me about, may fill the bill, providing they are willing to sell."
"they would sell, all right," richard declared thoughtfully, "but i don't see where they can go. the place won't bring enough to keep a family of six very long."
"we can talk that over, after i see the place," said mr. robinson. "you can trust me to be fair to a parcel of kids—i lived on a farm and i was bound out on a farm."
eager as sarah was to exhibit her pig, she had to wait. it was "dinner time" at the farmhouse and lunch time for the willis family when richard stopped before the barn. mrs. willis and shirley had returned—doctor hugh had dropped them at the crossroads and gone on to the hospital in bennington—and while at the table sarah made no mention of her plans. she had a habit of taking no part in the general conversation, unless personally interested, and her silence created no wonderment.
after the hospitable manner of the countryside, the circus agent was asked to dinner by mr. hildreth who took it for granted that he had asked a lift of richard on his way from one town to another. and, the meal over, richard piloted him to the barn, where rosemary and shirley and sarah and the pig awaited him.
"come on and watch," said sarah cordially, but richard, declaring he was too busy, went on to his work.
sarah was a little fearful lest bony develop "temperament," of which he had his share, and refuse to act, but he happened to be in the best of humors, thanks to a peaceful morning free from interruptions, which had allowed him to enjoy a full-length nap.
sarah put him through his paces and change of costumes with pride. he danced, he marched, he went through his acrobatics; he wheeled the doll carriage and poured afternoon tea; he played the piano and read, wearing a pair of glassless spectacles and turning the printed page with a graceful air of interest. he grunted "yes" and he squeaked "no" to half a dozen questions. and finally, seated in a doll's rocking chair, he fanned himself as though the exactions of his art were wearing in the extreme.
"i ought to sign you up with the circus," said mr. robinson admiringly, when sarah announced that bony had displayed the extent of his accomplishments. "you must have a gift, to be able to train an animal like that. of course he is a clever pig, but you have developed him and made it easy for us to teach him fancier tricks. do you want to sell him?"
sarah looked at rosemary, who, with shirley, had come out to witness the performance.
"yes," said sarah, after a minute. "yes, i want to sell him."
"you can't change your mind, you know," announced the circus agent warningly. he wanted the pig but he wished to be fair.
sarah's chin went up in the air.
"i won't change my mind," she declared. "i won't sell bony and then ask for him back. you may have him—now."
"can't take him till to-morrow morning," said mr. robinson. "don't you have to ask any older person—your mother, for instance?"
rosemary shook her head.
"mr. hildreth gave the pig to sarah," she explained. "it is all hers. and you mustn't tell anyone about buying it—that is, that the money is for louisa."
mr. robinson looked perplexed, as well he might.
"but little grasshoppers!" he ejaculated, scratching his head. "you can go just so far with a secret, you know; if i buy this gay farm a heap of people will have to know about it."
"oh, who?" said rosemary in quick distress.
"well, the guardian, or whoever holds the estate for them," said mr. robinson. "then the lawyer who draws the deed and all the folks at the court house who have anything to do with the searches and like that."
"i don't understand," declared rosemary, while sarah and shirley began to fold up the dresses bony had worn. "but i am sure there is no guardian. louisa would have said something about it."
"never mind," said the circus agent kindly. "plenty of time to find out all that later. now if the little girl really wants to sell the pig—"
he named a figure that surprised them all. whether, as doctor hugh suspected when he heard the story, mr. robinson wanted to help the gays too, and added more as a practical way to assist them; or whether, as sarah was firmly convinced, bony was the smartest pig he had ever seen and he recognized his value, does not really matter. there, before three pairs of wondering eyes, he counted out a little heap of soiled bills and gave them to sarah.
"i'll take the pig in the morning," he said, folding up the remainder of his money and fastening the roll with an elastic. "i expect to put up with the hildreths to-night and one of the boys will take me back to town after breakfast. you look after the pig for me till then, won't you?"
sarah promised and then, as she did not seem to know what to do with the money, he suggested that she run into the house and give it to her mother to put away.
the three girls were anxious to go over to the gay farm with mr. robinson, but he explained that he thought he could talk better to alec and louisa alone.
"i'm just going to wander over there and tell 'em that richard gilbert sent me," he said. "i'll say he heard i wanted to buy a small place and that i thought they might be in the market. i'll tell you all about it, soon as i get back."
they watched him start "across lots" to the gay farm and then sarah went into the house to ask her mother to put away the money.
"you've sold bony, dear?" echoed mrs. willis when she heard the news. "and for all this money? who bought him, sarah? when did you sell your pig?"
sarah told her about mr. robinson, and rosemary and shirley listened eagerly for they had not heard the details, nor learned how sarah had met the circus agent.
"i always said bony was a smart pig!" wound up sarah, watching her mother counting the money into a little black tin box, fitted with a lock and key.
"but sarah dear, i thought you were very fond of bony," said mrs. willis. "why did you want to sell him—and what are you planning to do with all this money?"
"it's a secret," declared sarah, setting her lips tightly.
"oh, lamb! don't you want to tell mother?"
sarah shook her head so violently her black hair whipped across her eyes.
"nobody must ever tell—never, never, never!" she asserted and, catching shirley by the hand, she ran out of the room, dragging her small sister with her.
rosemary's beautiful blue eyes turned to her mother's troubled ones.
"it's all right, mother," she urged. "really it is; the man wanted to buy the pig—he told rich it was very cleverly trained. and what sarah wants to do with the money won't be a secret after the first of september. she'll tell you then."
"i'll have to hold it for her until she does tell me," said mrs. willis quietly. "i don't see how sarah could bring herself to part with bony, rosemary; she has been devoted to him."
rosemary wanted to tell of the motive that had prompted sarah's sacrifice, but thought she was in honor bound not to. so she went downstairs to her practising, wondering what louisa and alec were saying to mr. robinson and whether he would buy the farm from them.
sarah and her pig disappeared till dinner time and if during the meal the former seemed more silent than usual it might easily have been because she was tired.
mrs. hildreth came for one of her rare chats with mrs. willis after dinner that night and then the girls felt free to slip down to the bungalow to hear what mr. robinson had to tell them.
eager as they were to learn what had been done for the gays, they were not to go directly to the bungalow for half way across the lawn mrs. hildreth called to them.
"miss clinton sent me word to-day, rosemary," she said, "that she'd like very much to see you; the letter-man told me. i thought maybe you'd go down there this evening."
"don't go," whispered sarah. "we want to see mr. robinson."
rosemary stopped uncertainly. it was still light and mrs. willis would not object if they were back before dark.
"we were going to see the boys," said rosemary. "there was something i wanted to ask them—"
"oh, you can see them when you come back," mrs. hildreth answered. "i'd go see miss clinton if i were you; she gets lonely and it isn't very nice to disappoint an old lady. she hasn't so many interests as you have."
rosemary looked at the speaker a trifle resentfully. mrs. hildreth, like many busy people, was an adept at pointing out duties for other folk.
"shall we go, mother?" she asked doubtfully.
now mrs. willis knew nothing of mr. robinson's all important visit to the gay farm and she saw no special reason for a visit to the bungalow.
"why i don't see why not, darling," she answered. "if you are not too tired. don't stay long, because you want to be home before dark. as mrs. hildreth says, the old lady is probably lonely."
rosemary went on and sarah began to scold.
"i don't see why you said you'd go," she complained. "we never plan to go anywhere that someone doesn't spoil it. why didn't you say you'd go when you got ready and not before?"
"because that would have been disrespectful and rude and you know it," retorted rosemary tartly. "you and shirley go on and see mr. robinson and i'll see miss clinton. i don't mind going alone."
"i'll go, too," said shirley.
"i'm not going to hear what he has to say and let you wait," announced sarah gruffly. "what do you suppose miss clinton wants?"
"company, probably," said rosemary. "we'll tell her we can't stay long, because mother doesn't like us out after dark; we can stop at the bungalow on the way back and the boys will walk back with us."
they found miss clinton, sitting in her chair, in the center of the doorway. then they were glad they had come, for it was easy to picture her sitting like that a whole dreary evening, watching and waiting.
"i hoped you'd come this evening," the old lady greeted them. "is that sarah with you? my, my, i don't often have you for a visitor, my dear."
sarah looked pleased. she appreciated cordial welcome as much as anyone.
"i told the letter-man to tell mrs. hildreth i wanted to see you, rosemary," went on miss clinton, "because i have a letter i can't read and i don't want to trust it to anyone around here. they are such gossips!" she added a little harshly.
"but can i read it?" asked rosemary, surprised. "i mean will i be able to?"
"oh, it's written in english, all right," laughed the old lady, her bright bird-like eyes twinkling. "i'm not asking you to translate a french or spanish letter. i don't believe it will take you very long, because you are bright."
"we mustn't stay till dark," murmured rosemary, wondering what kind of a letter it could be that miss clinton was unable to decipher.
"you'll have it done long before dark," miss clinton assured her. "let me see, where did i put it? oh yes—look in that jar on the cabinet shelf."
rosemary lifted the lid of the canton ginger jar. it was apparently empty but feeling around in it, her fingers found some scraps of paper.
"that's the letter," said the old lady placidly. "i put it down on a pile of old papers this morning when it first came and then when i went to start a fire this noon, i carelessly tore the papers across and with them the letter. fortunately i discovered what i had done in time to save the scraps, but i can't put them together again. i thought you could."
rosemary emptied out the pieces of paper on the table and, instructed by miss clinton, found the paste and a large sheet of paper on which to paste the bits. shirley and sarah sat down on the floor and began playing with the toys in the cabinet.
"adelaide has real good sense," remarked miss clinton as rosemary studied the pieces attentively, "she never writes on more than one side of the paper. i'd be in a pretty fix, if she had."
rosemary privately thought that she was in a fix as it was, for the scrawled writing made no sense whatever, as far as she could see. she arranged it tentatively, scattered the pieces again and laboriously pieced them together in another combination.
"did it begin, 'dear aunt'?" she asked desperately.
"mercy no." miss clinton looked up brightly from her crocheting. "adelaide calls me 'clintie' and always has. usually she begins, 'clintie dear.'"
rosemary worked feverishly, anxious to please the old lady and even more anxious to be on her way. she wanted to know what the circus agent had done about the farm and she was curious to know if louisa was displeased that their straits had become known to a stranger.
"there!" she said, after almost an hour's work. "i think i have it all right—it makes sense, anyway. but there's a corner missing."
"i don't mind a corner, as long as you have the gist of it," returned miss clinton gratefully. "i didn't want to write to adelaide that i'd destroyed her letter before i'd even read it. i'm sure i don't know how to thank you, rosemary!"
she wanted the girls to stay and have some of her sponge cake—baked that afternoon—but they were in a fever of impatience to be gone. when they finally found themselves out in the lane that took them to the hildreth house, sarah was the first to speak.
"if she'd had a telephone we could have asked her what she wanted and then we wouldn't have gone," she declared.
"yes we would," smiled rosemary. "that wasn't much to do—or it wouldn't have been, if we weren't going to hear about the gays. miss clinton didn't know that."
"i see mr. robinson!" chirped shirley as they came in sight of the house.
