y reminded her.
"If there is one thing Hugh won't stand, it's to have you handle pets
and then come to the table without scrubbing your hands. You know
that, Sarah."

"I'm not coming to any table," insisted Sarah. "Besides Bony is clean,
I tell you. If I can't bring him I won't come at all."

The walk down to the tomato field was long and hot, and Rosemary could
not hurry unless she had someone to share the weight of the pail which
would, she knew, grow heavier at each step. She capitulated.

"But keep Bony on the other side of you," she commanded Sarah. "I
don't see why he can't walk; do you carry him everywhere he goes?"

Sarah tucked the pig under one arm and gave the other hand to the
handle of the pail.

"Bony can walk, but I am saving his strength," she remarked with a
dignity worthy of Winnie. "You wait till you see what a smart pig he
is, Rosemary; no one appreciates him except me."

Warren and Richard, bending over the long rows of tomatoes,
straightened up in surprise as Rosemary's clear call came down to them.

"Stay up by the fence--you'll get your dress stained!" shouted Warren.
"We'll come over."

"Ye gods, lemonade!" ejaculated Richard when he was near enough to hear
the inviting tinkle of ice.

"And a pig!" grinned Warren. "Isn't Bony too heavy to cart around on a
day like this, Sarah?"

Sarah shook her head in negation, but remained silent.

"You must be baked!" Rosemary looked with sympathy at the two flushed
faces.

Both boys looked warm and tired, but they averred stoutly that no one
minded the heat "after they were used to it." They declared that
nothing had ever tasted as good as the lemonade.

"What made you think of bringing us it?" asked Warren, sitting down on
an overturned crate after his second cup and mopping his face with his
handkerchief.

"Oh, last winter Jack Welles and the high school boys were shoveling
snow, we took them hot coffee and doughnuts," said Rosemary carelessly.
"I suppose I must have remembered how much they liked something warm to
drink--and you like something cold just as much, don't you?"

"We sure do," agreed Richard warmly. "This Jack Welles is coming up
next week, isn't he? Mr. Hildreth is counting on him for two weeks."

Rosemary moved the pail beyond the reach of Sarah who seemed to have
developed an excessive thirst.

"Jack and Hugh are both coming next Sunday," she answered. "You'll
like Jack, Warren, and so will you, Richard. H