"Are you up here, Rosemary?" demanded another voice. "What are you doing?"
"Cleaning my shoes," said Rosemary patiently. "Say, Sarah, don't you think it would be nice if we dressed up a little for dinner to-night?"
"Why?" asked Sarah bluntly.
"Oh, because—because, well, we know Mother is going to get well," explained Rosemary. "And everything has been in such a mess this week, the table half set and nobody caring whether they ate or not. I'd like to show Hugh that we can have things done properly."
"What difference does it make?" drawled Sarah lazily. "I hate a lot of fuss, you know I do. Rosemary, do you suppose it hurts worms to use them for fishing bait? Will you ask Jack Welles?"
"I'll ask him the next time I see him, if you will put on your tan linen with the red tie," promised Rosemary. "And do brush your hair back the way Mother likes it, Sarah. She can't bear to see it stringing into your eyes."
"Oh—all right," agreed Sarah. "Don't forget to ask about the worms."
She departed and in her place came Shirley, carrying a pair of diminutive and soiled white shoes.
"I wish," she announced pleasantly, sitting down on the floor beside Rosemary to watch the cleaning process, "I wish we could have ice-cream."
"Well I'll ask Winnie," said Rosemary promptly. "What dessert do you suppose we are going to have to-night?"