“Where’s mother?” was his question as he reached the door.
His sister Kitty, sitting on the doorstep, looked up, “She’s upstairs, of course, sewing as hard as she can, and it’s so hot.”
Benny went pounding up the stairs to the room where his mother sat sewing. “Say, mother, it’s too hot to sew,” he exclaimed.
“But it isn’t too hot to eat, is it?” she said, looking up with a smile. “You know if I didn’t sew we wouldn’t have anything to eat.”
“That’s so,” replied Benny, slowly.
“Where have you been?” asked his mother, stopping to push back the damp hair from her face.
“I’ve been down on the wharf; it’s generally cool there, but it’s hot everywhere to-day. I like to go there, though; I like to see the people come up from the country with big bundles of flowers, and I like to watch the men unload the boats. They brought such a lot of strawberries to-day.”
“This weather ripens them fast. It is very early to have such heat.”
“I wish we lived in the country,” said Benny. “Isn’t it cheaper to live there?”
“Ye-es, if you have some one to work your garden and take care of your stock. But how could I make a living for you and Kitty?”