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. He lives next door to us, you know." "Well, I only hope he's used to hard work," said Richard. "How old is he, Rosemary? Almost sixteen? I don't suppose he has ever picked tomatoes from sunup to sundown, but the cannery opens next week and we'll be picking steadily until it closes. Mr. Hildreth is shipping some crates to-day, but the real picking starts when the cannery opens. We're counting on Jack to make a third hand." "He'll want to go fishing," declared Sarah. "Jack doesn't care how much he hurts the poor fish, jabbing hooks into them." Sarah and Jack had had more than one violent argument over this question. "It isn't cruel to go fishing," said Rosemary impatiently, thinking how tired Warren looked. "I haven't been this year," announced Richard, "though they say there are several good streams near here. Sundays I seem to lack ambition and during the week, of course, there isn't time." Sarah edged a little nearer the pail. "You wouldn't catch fish would you, Warren?" she asked coaxingly. Warren looked at her and grinned.