ARAH, Oh, Sarah! Sally Waters, I'm calling you!"
Sarah glanced up at the merry face regarding her over the fence and frowned.
"Well, what do you want?" she asked ungraciously. "Don't you dare call me Sally, Jack Welles!"
"I'll call you Sadie, then," said the boy obligingly. "Where's Rosemary?"
He was a short, stocky lad, between fifteen and sixteen years old, with a freckled snub nose, engaging brown eyes and a chin that promised well for future force of character.
"Where's Rosemary?" he asked again.
"I don't know—I haven't seen her since lunch," answered Sarah. "Don't you think Elinor looks better to-day, Jack?"
Elinor was the sick rabbit and Sarah waited Jack's decision anxiously.
"Sure, leave her alone and she'll come out all right," he said heartlessly. "You're always fussing with animals, aren't you, Sarah? I believe you like 'em better when they're sick because it gives you an excuse to pet them more."
Sarah's brown, stolid little face kindled suddenly with passionate earnestness.