“Good-bye, and don’t forget about keeping out of the street,” said the truck-driver cheerfully, when he had them neatly lined up on the curb.

They watched him run back to his machine—­as Brother observed, he didn’t look to see whether any motor-cars were likely to run him down, but then, of course, he was grown up and used to them—­saw him mount to the high seat, and waved good-bye to all three men.  Then they walked on, for the sand-toys were still to be bought.

Brother and Sister were the most careful of shoppers, and with Nellie to help them by suggestions, they managed to find a set of tin sand-dishes, a windmill that pumped sand, a little iron dumpcart that would be very useful to carry loads, and a string of tin buckets that went up and down on a chain and filled with sand and emptied again as long as anyone would turn the handle.

“Come over after lunch and we’ll play,” said Sister as Nellie left them at her own hedge.

Nellie did come over and the three children had a wonderful time with the new toys and the clean white sand, while Brownie slept comfortably under the tree.  Before Nellie was ready to go home, however, a thunder storm came up and her mother called her to come in.  Mother Morrison came out and helped Brother and Sister to carry their box into the barn, where the sand would not get wet.

“You don’t want to play with the sandbox all the time, dearies,” she said, leading the way back to the house.  “If you play too steadily with anything, presently you will find that you are growing tired of it.  Now play on the porch, or find something nice to do in the house, and tomorrow Jimmie will put the box under the tree again for you.”

It was very warm and sticky, and Sister tumbled into the comfortable porch swing, meaning to stay there just a few minutes.  She fell asleep and slept all through the storm, waking up a little cross, as one is apt to do on a hot summer afternoon.  The rain had stopped and Brother had gone over to see Grandmother Hastings.

“Hello, Sister,” Louise greeted her when she raised a flushed, warm face and touseled hair from the canvas cushions.  “You’ve had a fine nap.  Want me to go upstairs with you and help you find a clean dress?”

“No,” said Sister a bit crossly.

“You’ll feel much better, honey, when your face is washed and you have on a thinner frock,” urged Louise, putting down her knitting.  “Come upstairs like a good girl, and I’ll tell you what I saw Miss Putnam doing as I came past her house this afternoon.”

Sister toiled upstairs after Louise, feeling much abused.  She had not intended to take a nap, and now here she had slept away good playtime and was certainly warmer and more uncomfortable than she had been before she went to sleep.

But after Louise had bathed her face and hands in cool water and had brushed her hair and buttoned her into a pretty white dress with blue spots, Sister was her own sunny self.  She had not been thoroughly awake, you see, and that was the reason she felt a little cross.