"Oh, Hugh!" Rosemary mashing potato for Shirley's hungry consumption, looked distressed. "I can keep house, I know I can. We don't need Aunt Trudy." "She won't let me keep any mice in my room," wailed Sarah. "I don't like her, either." "Let me eat it now," said Shirley, referring to her potato. "Let's tell Aunt Trudy not to come. She says oatmeal is good for me and I don't like oatmeal." "Have you all finished?" asked the doctor calmly. "Well then, I have something to say: Aunt Trudy is coming, just as soon as I can get her here; if for no other reason than Mother wants her and will go away happy in the belief that you will be well taken care of. There is to be no argument and I absolutely forbid you to mention the subject to Mother; if she says anything to you, try to act as though you were pleased at the prospect. For my part, I should think you would be glad she could come. An aunt is pretty nice to have when you are in trouble." "You don't know Aunt Trudy," said Sarah pertly. "Rosemary, will you go up and sit with Mother while Miss Graham has her dinner, when we are through?" asked Dr. Hugh, ignoring Sarah's remark. "I am going down to the drug-store for a few things and I'll be back within half an hour." The dessert of berries and ice-cream were eaten almost in silence. Three of the people at the table were busy with conflicting thoughts. Shirley alone was concentrating her attention on the delight of a larger slice of cake than usual. CHAPTER II THE WILLIS WILL "It's the first real warm night we've had isn't it?" said Mrs. Hollister conversationally. "I got to thinking about you to-night, Winnie, and I said to Mamie that I believed I'd come up and see you for a minute or two; I thought you might be glad to have a little help with the dishes or something." Winnie, a tall gaunt woman, the gray hair on her temples hardly perceptible because of the ash-blondness of her tightly pulled hair, stood beside the kitchen table apparently figuring some problem on a slip of paper. "My dishes are done," she said capably, "but sit down, do Mrs. Hollister; I'm not denying that I'm glad to see a friend after the day I've had." Mrs. Hollister sank heavily into the cushioned rocker drawn up near the table and removed her cotton gloves. "I said to Mamie I knew you'd be tuckered out," she observed. "Am I keeping you, Winnie--is that important?" she indicated the slip of paper in the other's hand. "I can do it any time before to-morrow morning," Winnie explained. "It's the laundry list and I have about everything counted up. The man comes Wednesdays." "Where are the girls?" asked the visitor, her quick eyes roving approvingly around the immaculate kitchen. "Did the poor lady get off safely?"