ll food for the animals on the place
was grown on the farm. How much hard work was bound up in the tilling
of the well-ordered fields, the cultivation of the thrifty orchard and
the healthy aspect presented by the live stock was something the three
Willis girls could not be expected to grasp at once. Everything was
beautifully neat, from the freshly swept barn floor to the white-washed
chicken houses; not a weed showed its head in the large vegetable
garden and a town-bred girl might easily make the mistake of thinking
that this state of affairs was always to be found on every
farm--something to be taken for granted, like fresh eggs or new milk.

It was in the vegetable garden that they found Warren Baker. He was
dressed in a clean blue shirt and dark blue overalls and he was on his
knees beside a long row of thin green spikes.

"Good morning," he greeted the visitors politely. "Out seeing the
sights? But didn't you forget your hats?"

Warren wore an immense straw hat that shaded the back of his neck as
effectively as his face.

"Oh, we don't want to bother with hats," said Rosemary carelessly.
"Aren't those onions you're weeding?"

"They're onions," answered Warren, "but I'm not weeding them; I'm
thinning them. If you stayed in one place in the sun as long as I do,
a hat would feel pretty good."

Sarah asked why he was "thinning" the onions and he explained that he
pulled out some to give those left more room to grow.

"This the first time you've been on a farm?" he asked her.

"The first time I ever stayed on a farm," said Sarah with precision.
"I've been to different farms with Hugh--that's my brother; but we only
stayed a little while. I think, when I grow up, I'll have a farm and
be an animal doctor."

"Sarah loves animals," Rosemary explained. "We've seen the horses in
the barn and the chickens and the pigs; but we didn't see a cow yet."

"Rich turns them into the lane as soon as he finishes milking," said
Warren, rising from the onion row. "I'll go down and let them into the
pasture now and you can come and see them, if you like."

"Well--you're sure it won't be a trouble?" hesitated Rosemary.

"Mother says we mustn't bother you," added Shirley primly, speaking for
the first time.

"You can't bother me," said the boy so heartily that he reminded
Rosemary of Jack Welles.

"Then don't you have to work, only when you want to?" suggested Sarah
who unconsciously then and there outlined her id