om as the
practise hour was about over (not allowing for time wasted, Rosemary
told herself resentfully), "Rosemary, where is Sarah?"

"I don't care where she is!" cried Rosemary, whirling around on the
piano bench. "I'm tired of always being asked where Sarah and
Shirley are. I don't care!"

Aunt Trudy burst into tears.

"I don't think you ought to speak to me like that," she sobbed.

CHAPTER X

THE LAST STRAW

Jack Welles' cheerful whistle sounded outside.

"Coming!" answered Rosemary.

She flung her arms about Aunt Trudy and gave her a penitent hug.

"I'm sorry I was cross, Auntie," she whispered. "You know I didn't
mean it."

Then she sped out the front door and joined Jack who was waiting on
the walk outside the hedge.

"Come on uptown and have a soda," he suggested. "Perhaps it will
cool you off--you look slightly wild."

"I feel wild," admitted Rosemary, falling into step beside him.
"This has been the most dreadful day!"

"Weather's enough to make anyone cross," said the boy quickly. "I'll
bet the trouble is you're doing everyone's work. Hugh ought to make
Sarah stir around. She's lazy."

"No, I don't think she is lazy," protested Rosemary, "Only, well you
know Jack, it was more fun doing the things you have to do when
Mother was home. I can't explain it very well, but I remember last
summer Sarah thought she'd wash the upstairs windows to surprise
Mother--Winnie was sick and Mother happened to say she didn't know
when in the world the windows would get cleaned. Sarah heard her and
the next day she lugged up a pail of water and a cloth and tried to
wash them. She splashed water all over the wall paper and made an
awful mess of it, but Mother kissed her and praised her and said she
was glad she had such a helpful little daughter. Aunt Trudy isn't
like that and Sarah likes to be praised for what she does. Aunt
Trudy never tells her she makes a bed well, but if there is a
wrinkle in the spread she shows her that. Sarah made the beds all
right for a long time, but now she goes off mornings and plays."

"I knew it," nodded Jack, "and Winnie has a list of troubles a mile
long waiting for you every night."

"Morning," corrected Rosemary, laughing. "Oh, Jack how do you know
so much? I don't see how I could get along without you, because
you're the only one who listens to my troubles. Hugh is a dear, but
he is so busy, and we're forbidden to write anything that will
bother Mother."

"Fire