oman at the house yonder told me that when we reached the top of
the next high ground we should see the smoke of the Hammerville
factories right away in the distance."

"Hurrah!" cried Nealie, forgetting her occupation, and clapping her
hands, with the result that she stuck her needle into her finger with
such violence that it brought the tears to her eyes and made her wince.

"And she says that last winter, when her little boy was ill, a Dr.
Plumstead came out from Hammerville to see him," chanted Sylvia,
whirling round on the tips of her toes in the dusty track, and flinging
up her hands like an Italian dancing-girl, which made Rocky snort and
plunge as if he wanted to join in the fun.

"Steady there, steady, old fellow, we don't want you bolting at this
time of day!" called Rupert in a warning tone. "Control your
transports, Sylvia, for the sake of Rocky's nerves, or we shall have the
old fellow developing a temperature, and then what shall we do?"

"You look as if you had a temperature yourself. Do you feel bad,
Rupert?" asked Sylvia, coming closer to the wagon, and speaking so
anxiously that Nealie glanced quickly up from her stocking-darning to
look at her brother's face.

"Oh, I'm right enough!" he answered quietly. "I feel a bit heavy, but
that is because of the weather. I think we shall have a storm before
night."

"Oh, I hope not!" cried Nealie in a tone of dismay.

"It would cool the air, and that would be a blessing. Don't you think it
is very close this morning?" he asked, wiping his face with the hand
that was not occupied with the reins.

"It is hot certainly, but so it is every day," she said, glancing up at
the sky, and feeling relieved to see that there were no storm clouds
hovering in sight. "Give me the reins, Rupert, and do you go astern and
lie down beside Ducky. You will be cooler there, and these stockings can
wait."

"I think that it is a great mistake to mend stockings at all in weather
like this, for holes are much cooler than little lumps of darning
cotton," remarked Sylvia.

"I don't see the use of wearing them at all. I am comfortable enough
with bare feet in my shoes, and so would you be if only you were used to
it," said Rumple, coming up with a sackful of grass for Rocky's midday
feed on his back. The younger boys took it in turns to provide Rocky's
luncheon, and to-day was Rumple's turn.

"Sylvia and I are not boys, you see, and so the same rules do not apply
to us, for gi