It can not be denied that Sarah made the remainder of the day a veritable "blue Monday" for her family. Secure in the privileges accorded her as an invalid, she quarreled with Shirley and Rosemary, drove Winnie to distraction with repeated requests for cookies and lemonade and answered Mrs. Hildreth snappishly when that good woman stopped in for a moment's chat and generally behaved, as Winnie put it "like all possessed."
And yet, when Rosemary announced at supper that Richard and Warren were going to walk to the "Center" to see a man at the creamery and that they would be back before dark and had said the girls might go with them, Sarah's refusal to go immediately convinced her sisters that she must be really ill.
They set off as soon as the meal was over, Rosemary and Shirley and the two boys, and Sarah curled herself, a disconsolate little heap, in the porch swing. And there her mother found her and in less than two minutes had the whole story, from the pathetic beginning. "The hen was awfully sick, Mother," down to the "queer feelings" Sarah had experienced when Richard, always so good-natured and kind, had turned into an entirely different person.
"And I'm afraid of Mr. Hildreth," wailed Sarah, the tears flowing again as she ended her recital. "He'll yell at me, if I tell him, the way he did at Warren."
"Why no," said Mrs. Willis, in the most matter-of-fact tone. "Why no, he won't, Sarah. Certainly not. And you're not one bit afraid of him. He'll he sitting out on the porch now, smoking his pipe and quite ready to listen to whatever you have to tell him. You don't want Mother to go with you, do you?"
"Of course not," said Sarah, almost as matter-of-factly. "I'll go now, before the boys get back, Mother."
And away she marched to the bungalow, confidently, if not cheerfully. She had meant to ask her mother whether it would be necessary to confess that she had been the one who left the bins open, but Mrs. Willis had so evidently taken for granted that Sarah meant to do this at once, that the question had never been asked. Well, if Mr. Hildreth wasn't going to yell at her and if she wasn't afraid of him—and her mother had said he wouldn't and she wasn't—there was no earthly reason why she should not admit that she had been careless.
It all happened exactly as Mrs. Willis had said. Mr. Hildreth was sitting on his porch, smoking comfortably and resting after a hard day. He was surprised to see Sarah, but he did not yell at her. Instead he listened silently while she stammered out that she had been to blame for the hens feasting in the bins. She told him about the sick hen and she outlined her eventful day, culminating in the tumble from the apple tree and Richard's attempt to render first aid in the washroom.
"Well," Mr. Hildreth spoke for the first time, when she had finished. "Well, I'm glad you came to me and told me—though that's the natural thing to do. Own up when you're wrong—isn't it?"
"Is it?" asked Sarah doubtfully.