He had put the food away and prepared himself a cup of coffee, when he heard the clatter of the bus. That would be Betsy and Rita with the kids, he knew, back from the beach. By the noisy commotion, he gathered they had enjoyed themselves, with no more than the usual number of cuts and bruises and hurt feelings. Eleven kids, the oldest eight years, could not conceivably go to the beach for the afternoon without some crises; but, at least, they seemed to have gotten back in a happy condition. Tom smiled as he thought of them, picturing the throng, but he made no move to join them. When Sue, aged four, stuck her head in the door and grinned to see him there, he just said "Hi." This she took as an invitation, and hopped on in to begin telling him in disconnected fragments, all about the day. He let her ramble for a moment until the first flush of her enthusiasm was over. Then, with a kiss on the forehead and a poke in the stomach, he sent her out, suggesting that she tell him all about it later. When she had gone, he sat there, thinking about the girl. Sue was very much like her mother, Polly. Dark-haired with light bones, she had the quick and easy movements of a born dancer. And her eyes sparkled with dancing lights. Sue, like Polly, was a born flirt, but a flirt out of sheer interest in life. She was so much the image of her mother, both in face and build and also temperament, that he wondered who her father was. Certainly there was not much of any of the men visible in her. What would Marcia mean to the children? With a start he came back to his problem. There was nothing apparent of the maternal instinct in her. But then, neither was there in Joan, either; and Joan was a perfectly good member of the clan. Oh, sometimes they laughed at Joan for being much too serious about her part. She was the artist and the self-acknowledged arbiter of good taste, the monitor of the proper way. She was the gracious hostess when visitors were at hand. To her the clan had conceded the job of deciding the arrangement of the rooms. To her the girls turned for advice in how to dress. And her advice was good. With some real though limited talent as an artist, she had the touch of instinct, the sense of rightness, and the drive to be unsatisfied with anything but what was right. And she, conceding that children were necessary and even desirable in their places, still deplored the havoc they could wreak. She was not a good manager of the children. But then, he thought, why should she be? The clan had other purposes than to raise children; that was one of the important needs the clan fulfilled, but it was only one. In fact, it was one of the strengths of the clan that the different members had separate talents they could bring to it. Each with his own value, each unique. With the separateness that let them complement each other to form the whole. This was their strength.