"Only square thing to do," the farmer assured her. "I'll tell Warren before I turn in to-night, then we'll be above board all around. You like animals, don't you?" he added suddenly.
"When I grow up," she announced, "I'm not going to do a thing but take care of animals. I'm going to have a farm, like yours, Mr. Hildreth, and I'm going to have seven automobiles with men to drive 'em. They'll go through all the cities and take the poor sick horses and dogs and cats and—and birds and things and bring 'em back to my farm. Then I'll doctor them up and cure them."
"So you think you'll be a doctor, hey?" said the farmer lazily.
"An animal doctor," Sarah affirmed. "I won't take care of sick folks, 'cause they're cross; Shirley is going to be that kind of a doctor maybe. Animals are never cross, no matter how sick they are. Did you know that, Mr. Hildreth?"
"Come to think of it, I do," Mr. Hildreth admitted, enjoying the conversation immensely. "But where'll you get money to run this farm, Sarah? Don't you think you ought to raise some crops?"
Sarah pondered.
"Rich and Warren can do that," she decided easily. "They'll be through agricultural college by then and perhaps they'll like to run my farm. But Warren will have to buy a tractor, because I won't let my horses plow. None of the animals are going to work, when I take care of them."
Mr. Hildreth glanced at her queerly.
"You're just like the rest," he said grimly. "You think of work as something to side-step, don't you? Let me tell you, Sarah, that unless you give these animal friends of yours something to do and train them to do it regularly, you will have to spend all your days dosing them."
"You mean they'll be sick?" asked Sarah, worried at once.