Warren, leading the way out of the vegetable garden, laughed.
"Sure I have to work," he said good-naturedly. "If you knew Mr. Hildreth, you wouldn't ask a question like that; he does two men's work every day of his life and encourages everyone else to follow his example. But you see, I can talk and work, too; it's all right to talk, if you don't stop work to do it."
"Is it?" queried Sarah doubtfully.
"Not a question about it," declared Warren, taking down two bars for the girls to go through into a green lane fenced in on either side with a heavy wire fence. "Talk and work, mixed, are all right, but all talk and no work makes Jack a poor hired man—haven't you ever heard that proverb?"
Sarah puzzled over this until they came up with the cows and then she forgot it promptly. There were ten of the sleek, cream-colored bossies, gentle, affectionate creatures who pressed their deep noses trustingly into Warren's hands and begged him to open the wide gate that kept them from the shady pasture.
He swung the gate back and they moved slowly forward, beginning to crop the grass before they were half way through.
"There's a brook," cried Shirley, catching sight of the water. "I want to go wading—come on!"
"Not now," said Rosemary, catching Shirley by her frock as though she feared that small girl might plunge into the stream head-first, "after lunch, dear, if Mother is willing."
"We want to do a lot of other things first," Sarah reminded her. "We haven't been up to the top of the windmill yet."
Warren turned and looked at her, a twinkle in his eyes.