"keep away from that coffee pot!" said warren for the sixth time in as many minutes.

rosemary laughed and pulled shirley back from the fire.

after twice fixing a day for the picnic, only to have doctor hugh summoned by telephone and obliged to remain away till early evening, the suggestion of a picnic supper had been suggested and accepted.

"a good idea, i call it," winnie had approved. "we won't have to start till around four o'clock and by that time hughie ought to have a couple of hours off, anyway. i'm not crazy about eating outdoors, but if a body can have something hot, it isn't so bad as it might be."

warren and richard had promised to build the fire and make the coffee—they assured winnie that even she would praise their brew—and doctor hugh had insisted on the "hot dogs" without which no properly conducted supper—so he said—could be arranged. he was sharpening a stick to serve sarah as a toaster now.

winnie's hospitable soul rejoiced in the groups gathered about the glowing fire, built on an improvised stone hearth between two tree stumps. winnie had put her best efforts into the food and she liked to be assured that the quantity, as well as the quality, would be appreciated.

they were all there—the six from the willis household, mr. and mrs. hildreth, richard and warren; and the six gays with roly-poly little mrs. robinson and her husband who had come up to introduce his wife to the farm and leave her there while he finished "the season" on the road. mrs. willis had been delighted to have this opportunity to meet the people who were to live with the gay children and who would, she reasoned, have more or less influence over them. mrs. robinson had been three days at the farm and already she had won the friendship of louisa and alec, not an easy matter to bring about. the younger children were devoted to her and it was apparent that the motherless household unconsciously welcomed her wealth of tact and wisdom and sympathy.

"they need you so," said mrs. willis when she had a chance to speak confidentially to the wife of the circus agent.

"not more than i need them," responded mrs. robinson. "they have no mother and i have no children."

and if the payment of the quarter's rent in advance had "turned the luck," as alec insisted, it was the coming of mrs. robinson that turned the gays back to normal, happy living.

rosemary had stipulated that the "grown-ups" were to visit and leave the preparation of the supper to the children. most of the preparation was confined to setting the table—on a flat rock—and to boiling the coffee and toasting the meat. richard and warren were in charge of the fire and louisa and rosemary undertook to set out the eatables, while alec carried fresh water from the spring, fished out ants from the milk pitcher and endeavored to keep the younger fry from tasting everything left unguarded.

sarah's insistence on toasting her own "hot dog" led to a general clamor for sticks and doctor hugh obligingly whittled a dozen wands. taking care to make them long as a precaution against a too eager approach to the fire.

the table looked very pretty when rosemary summoned them, for a bouquet was in the center and tiny wreaths of flowers circled the paper dishes. warren's coffee was pronounced delicious and winnie received so many compliments on her stuffed eggs and the potato salad that she told mrs. hildreth it would serve her right if the cake should turn out to be soggy.

"then," declared mrs. hildreth neatly, "i should know it was no cake of your baking!"

but one distressing incident interrupted the serene progress of that wonderful supper—when the paper cup of ants and bugs and beetles and flies that sarah had captured before sitting down, upset directly into her saucer of home-made ice cream. even that catastrophe could not mar the general enjoyment, though sarah retired to fish out the bugs carefully by hand with the forlorn hope of "drying them off and saving them."

when the supper was over and everything cleared away, warren built up the fire again and they gathered around it. the day had been warm but a slight chill was in the air—the early touch of fall.

"it doesn't seem as though we were going home to-morrow," remarked rosemary pensively. "and school opens next week."

"the summer has gone so swiftly," said mrs. willis. "i can scarcely realize that this is september. the hammonds have started—hugh had a letter yesterday."

"i think it's been a long summer," declared sarah, trying to hide a yawn.

"well, i'm glad it's over," said louisa bluntly.

then the baby june was discovered asleep in alec's lap and mrs. robinson offered to take her back to the house and put her to bed. louisa decreed that bed-time had arrived for the other gays and they all turned homeward, promising to say good by to the willises in the morning.

"and remember you've promised to bring rosemary out to see us this winter, doctor willis," louisa reminded him.

"you come along, sarah, and see the new tricks i've taught your pig," said mr. robinson with the kindest intention in the world.

sarah made no reply. she had never voluntarily mentioned bony since the morning she had watched him driven off the farm and gradually her mother and sisters had forgotten him. not so sarah. she never forgot but nothing ever induced her to go and see the pig though she had plenty of opportunities later, had she so desired.

the twilight shut down and warren added more fuel to the fire. shirley pressed close to her mother, hoping to hide the fact that she, too, was getting sleepy.

"i don't think it was a long summer," she chirped, "i would like more summer to get herbs in; mr. fiddlestrings likes us to get them for him."

"you don't call him that, do you?" asked rosemary, shocked.

"everyone does," retorted shirley. "only they say 'old fiddlestrings' and we don't—do we, sarah?"

"he has a stuffed snake," said sarah who seldom troubled herself to answer questions that failed to directly interest her. "rich, you said you'd show me how to stuff a snake and you never did."

"well, i never got around to it," richard apologized. "i'm one who found the summer too short."

mr. hildreth grunted.

"guess you don't need a stuffed snake, sarah," he said humorously. "a stuffed chicken seemed to be too much for your family."

sarah looked disgusted, while the others laughed at the recollection of that chicken. sarah, a few weeks before, had found a dead chicken under the carriage house and had decided it to be a heaven-sent opportunity to practise her theories of taxidermy. she had stuffed the carcass with a variety of available materials—grass and hay and pebbles, mixed with small sticks and cakes of mud—and, her task completed, had hidden the treasure in a cupboard in the pantry. for some reason she deemed the sympathy of her family doubtful and she made no mention of the experiment to anyone.

it was not long before winnie complained of an unpleasant odor in her always thoroughly aired pantry. she stood it for one day, grumbling. the second day she began to talk about "country plumbing" and the third morning she started in to scrub and scour and disinfect vigorously. her activities led her to the dark corner where sarah had stowed her chicken and the subsequent interview was brief and to the point. sarah buried the unfortunate fowl, using the cake turner which she was later to bury also on command of winnie, and this, to date, had been her sole experience with "stuffing" anything.

rosemary leaned forward, smiling at the fire.

"what are you thinking of, rosemary?" asked her brother, dexterously shifting sarah's position so that she could not kick the fire with her shoes—a feat she was anxious to accomplish.

"oh, ever so many things," said rosemary. "about louisa and alec and the circus. and the poor farm, too."

warren was watching the fire closely, too.

"i drove past the poor farm the other day," he said slowly, "and the lawns have all been ploughed up and seeded. there's no place now for the folks to sit, except on the back porch. not till the new grass has a good start."

"i don't see why sarah is always planning a farm for animals," rosemary declared a little passionately. "if i ever have a farm it is going to be a home for people who haven't any other home. people like the gays and old men and women who have no one to take care of them."

"i'll have a poor farm, too," cried sarah, wide awake in an instant. "i never thought of that. i'll have a place for sick animals, too, but i'll have a real poor farm for old horses and cows and pigs and things—when they're too old to work, like old belle."

warren and richard laughed and doctor hugh patted his small sister's energetic dark head.

"i wish you and rosemary could do all you plan," he said with a half sigh. "there's room enough for that help and more."

mrs. hildreth, her busy hands for once idle, stared at the blazing fire. she had told her husband earlier in the day that she hardly knew how to behave at a picnic, it had been so long since she had allowed herself such a frivolous pleasure.

she sat now, between winnie and mrs. willis, tense and upright, unable to relax, but resting nevertheless.

"it's been a nice summer," she said slowly. "i don't know when i've had time go so fast. young people in the house and outside do brighten things up amazingly. and warren and rich have made me so little trouble—i never knew two boys who needed less waiting on; yes, i've had a nice summer. i can say that."

warren's tanned face flushed a little and richard stirred uneasily. both recalled moments of impatience, fortunately suppressed, and remembered small kindnesses they might have easily performed. poor mrs. hildreth, so utterly unable to take life easily, was something of a taskmaster like her husband. she prided herself on asking no more of anyone than she was willing to do herself and the result was nerves strung up to concert pitch and a volume of work turned out that was the wonder of a neighborhood famed for its industry. warren and richard felt guiltily that they might have made more positive contributions to her "nice summer," but they were thankful for the little they had done to lighten the good woman's labors.

"how about you, mother?" said doctor hugh mischievously.

"i? oh, i have learned to love rainbow hill," was mrs. willis' response. "i could ask no more of any summer than these weeks have given me—love and happiness and health. and to-morrow we're going home!"

rosemary smiled across the fire at her mother. she, too, liked to think of going home.

"i only hope the smell of the paint will be out of the house," remarked winnie who could never, under any circumstances, be accused of being sentimentally inclined.

"and the gas stove," went on winnie dreamily. "if that greggs has been mixing messes on it and dropping his glue on the enamel, i'll give him a piece of my mind. i left that kitchen like wax and it's my hope to find it like that, but i have my doubts."

doctor hugh laughed and put back a brand that slipped from the glowing embers.

"ah, winnie, you know you can hardly wait to get to the straightening up part," he accused her. "you're already turning the rooms inside out in your mind's eye for a grand cleaning. i had thought of getting someone to come in and have it all in order for you and then i was afraid you might not like it so i changed my mind."

"hughie, if a strange person lays hand on a thing in that house," began winnie solemnly and then she stopped as she saw the smiling face.

"you ought to be ashamed of yourself to be teasing me," she scolded.

"shirley's asleep and so is winnie," said doctor hugh suddenly.

"i am not!" protested shirley indignantly as usual.

"eh?" winnie jerked her eyes open with a start. "for mercy's sake, do we have to stay out here all night?" she demanded crossly. "i can stand a picnic supper, if i have to, but it's no picnic for me to have to sleep out on damp grass."

doctor hugh laughingly declared that after that gentle hint there was nothing to do but go in. he helped the boys cover the fire and stamp out every vestige of an ember and then led the way to the house, carrying shirley and leading sarah who pretended to be very wide-awake but whose feet lagged unaccountably.

"i declare, i can't get used to having no dinner dishes to wash," said winnie when they had reached the porch. "i'm going in now and see if i left the kitchen in good order."

she disappeared and mrs. willis took shirley and sarah up to bed, while doctor hugh snapped on the reading light.

"i want to look over the paper," he said comfortably. "don't go, warren—it's early yet, rich."

rosemary found her favorite low rocker and the boys chose the swing.

"we'll miss this," said warren slowly.

"yes, we haven't any swing at ag state," declared richard with a grin.

"you know what i mean, well enough," retorted warren. "confabs, music—being inside a home."

richard was silent. he knew.

"mother says she asked you to write to her," broke in rosemary. "she says we'll never forget this dear little house at rainbow hill and the friends we've made this summer."

"have you found your pot of gold, rosemary?" asked richard, watching the light which threw the outline of the girl's pretty head into relief.

rosemary laughed a little. early in the summer mrs. hildreth had explained that the name "rainbow hill" had been given the farm by mrs. hammond because the first time she had seen the house its roof had been spanned by a beautiful rainbow. the willis girls had waited hopefully two months for a glimpse of a rainbow, but none had been vouchsafed them. sarah, for one, believed the rainbow to be as mythical as the pot of gold mrs. hildreth had told her was always to be found at its end.

"i don't believe i've found any pot of gold," said rosemary wistfully.

"oh, yes, you have," contradicted warren. "look at the gays—you helped them find their pot of gold; look at miss clinton—you gave her many happy hours; look at mrs. hildreth—she says she never knew a summer to go so quickly and it's all because she has had someone cheerful to talk to her. look at rich and me—"

"oh, warren!" rosemary protested. "sarah did more for the gays than ever i did. and mother and winnie talked to mrs. hildreth. i haven't done anything."

"it's your pure joyousness, i think," went on warren as though he had not heard her. "i don't believe enough people are simply happy in this world. that's your pot of gold, rosemary—happiness. and you share it with everyone you meet. it makes a fellow feel—well, as though he were standing on a mountain top in the morning, just to look at you."

"oh!" said rosemary softly, astonished at quiet warren and yet oddly pleased, too. "oh!"

"you're even glad to go back to school, aren't you, rosemary?" asked richard with a half unconscious sigh. going back to school for him, and for warren, meant much hard work and more anxiety.

the dreamy light went out of the girl's eyes. her lovely, vivid face glowed with characteristic enthusiasm. it might be said of rosemary that no future was ever else than rosy to her ardent gaze.

"of course i'll be glad!" she answered eagerly. "it will be my last year in grammar school, you know. and it's sure to be exciting—in spots. besides i just love going ahead!"

across his lowered paper, doctor hugh smiled at the two boys in the swing.

"and that," he said whimsically, "explains why rosemary is rosemary."