VII
THE FOURTH BEGINS
Amy Redmond looked wistfully from the kitchen window. She leaned on the sill, and gazed farther down the road, in the direction from which came the sound of laughing voices. A moment later a beach wagon rolled past, and she recognized Brenda as one of the merry party.
Amy turned to her work with a sigh. “It seems to me that on holidays I have more to do than on any other day,” she said; “housework is so very, very tiresome.” Nevertheless, in spite of her repining, she did not neglect her work, and she took up the slender steel knife which for a moment she had laid down, and went on peeling potatoes.
“It’s ridiculous,” she murmured, a little impatiently, “for any one to think of eating hot food on a day like this; but I suppose that an invalid has to be humored.”
“Amy, Amy,” called a voice from the garden.
“Yes, ’m,” she answered, briskly, going to the door.
“You need n’t light the stove until eleven. The day is so very hot.”
“Yes, ’m, promptly at eleven,” said Amy, glancing at the clock. It was now only half-past ten, and she saw
