The dark and stolid Sarah lying on her stomach on the white goatskin rug, was "the queer one" of the family. Sarah's nature was as uncompromising as her own square-toed sandals and about as blunt. Demonstrations of affection bored her. She tended strictly to her interests and felt small concern in the affairs of her sisters. You could reach Sarah--after you had learned the way--and the depths in her were worth reaching. But her one passionate devotion was for animals--she would do anything for her pets, dare anything for them. Sometimes Doctor Hugh wondered if she would not sacrifice anyone to their needs. If one desired a contrast to Sarah, there was Shirley. Shirley who sat in the wastebasket and beamed upon an approving world. Six year old Shirley was a born sunbeam and her brief fits of temper only seemed to intensify the normal sunshine of her disposition. She smiled and she coaxed answering smiles from the severest mortal; she dimpled and laughter bubbled up to meet her chuckling mirth. It was impossible to remain cross or ill-tempered when Shirley danced into a room and it is to be feared that her gifts of cajolery bought her off from often needed reproofs. It was never easy to scold Shirley. Doctor Hugh Willis, sharpening his pencil so painstakingly, knew all this and more. To his natural endowment of keen-eyed penetration had been recently added the illuminating experience of a year as sole head of the household--a year in which the little mother had been absent in a sanitarium recovering her shattered health and he had been responsible for the welfare of his sisters. Not the least interesting figure of that group--Doctor Hugh. Dark-haired, dark-eyed and tall, his keen, intelligent face could be as expressive as Rosemary's. His chin was firm and his mouth could be grim and smiling, by turns. His speaking voice was rather remarkable in the range of its modulations and his manner was incisive as one used to commanding obedience. His patients said "Doctor" had a way with him. "Shall I cut the cake, or put it on whole?" inquired someone blandly on the other side of the closed door. "There's Winnie," said Mrs. Willis, lifting her head and smiling. "Open the door, Shirley." Five pairs of eyes turned affectionately to the tall, thin woman who stepped into the room as Shirley obeyed. This was Winnie without whom the Willis household would have been lost indeed since for twenty-eight years she had solved every domestic difficulty for them, shrewdly and capably. Loyalty and service were beautiful, concrete things in her faithful loving eyes. Dear Winnie! "About the cake," she said now, smoothing her immaculate apron and glancing sharply at the circle of rather serious faces. "Bother the cake," answered Doctor Hugh, secure in the knowledge that whatever he said would receive Winnie's unqualified approval. "Have you seen the plans for the new office, Winnie?"