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."