see how the ice had held out. As she was returning, the telephone bell rang. She bustled into the coat closet and took down the receiver.
"Hello, mother," called a fresh, wide-awake voice. "Were you up? It's Linda. Ed has just looked at the thermometer and it's up to eighty-four even now. It's going to be a regular scorcher, Ed says, and I don't think you ought to have us all over there. It's too much for you."
"Nonsense, Linda!"
"No, I mean it. That's why I'm calling so early. Really, mother—"
"Nonsense! Why, the peas are shelled already, and the salmon on the ice. You get dressed and you'll feel better."
At ten o'clock there was a telephone call from Mary. Mary was Mrs. Harvey's youngest daughter and had been married six months. She lived in the next town, six miles away. "It's ninety-two degrees, mother, in the shade," she called. "I've been talking to Phil. He's out in the hammock now, just about all in, poor boy! We've talked it over, Phil and I, and we think it's too hot for you to bother with a big dinner. You've got Winifred and Elsie there and that's plenty, such weather. We'll be over for the fireworks this evening, though."
"You'll be here at one o'clock, and don't be
