she was aware
only of a suspicion that possibly when one was having the most fun was
not always when one was being the most useful.

"Well," said a pleasant voice, "how does the hoeing go?"

And there stood Laura with a pitcher in her hand, and on her face a
look--was it of mingled surprise and respect?

"You mustn't work too long the first day," she told Elliott. "You're
not hardened to it yet, as we are. Take a rest now and try it again
later on. I have your book under my arm."

When, that noon, they all trooped up to the house, hot and hungry,
Elliott went with them, hot and hungry, too. Nobody thanked her for
anything, and she didn't even notice the lack. Farming wasn't like
canteening, where one expected thanks. As she scrubbed her hands she
noticed that her nails were hopeless, but her attention failed to
concentrate on their demoralized state. Hadn't she finished her row?

"Stuck it out, did you?" said Bruce, as they sat down at dinner. "I
bet you would."

"I shouldn't have dared look any of you in the face again, if I
hadn't," smiled Elliott. But his words rang warm in her ears.

CHAPTER VI

FLIERS

Laura and Elliott were in the summer kitchen, filling glass jars with
raspberries. As they finished filling each jar, they capped it and
lowered it into a wash-boiler of hot water on the stove.

"It seems odd," remarked Laura, "to put up berries without sugar."

"Isn't it horrid," said Elliott, who had never put up berries at all,
but who was longing for candy and hadn't had courage to suggest buying
any. "I hope the Allies are going to appreciate all we are doing for
them."

"Do you?" Laura looked at her oddly. "I hope we are going to
appreciate all they have done for us."

"Aren't we showing it?" Elliott felt really indignant at her cousin.
"Think of the sacrifices we're making for them."

"Sacrifices?"

How stupid Laura was! "You know as well as I do how many things we are
giving up."

"Sugar, for instance?" queried Laura.

"Sugar is one thing."

"Oh, well," said Laura, "I'd rather a little Belgian had my extra
pounds, poor scrap! Of course, now and then I get hungry for it,
though Mother gives us all the maple we want, but when I do get
hungry, I think about the Belgians and the people of northern France
who have lost their homes, and of all those children over there who
haven't enough to eat to make them want to play; and I think about the
British fleet and what it has kept us f