ff-hand, just why she should inspire the conviction, immediate
and swift, that those who loved her must be constantly on guard to
protect her against physical exhaustion and weakness. Difficult, that
is, only until one saw her patient, shining eyes and then one knew,
what had never been hidden from Doctor Hugh, that in her body dwelt an
unquenchable spirit that would always outrun her strength.

In Rosemary, leaning above her mother and studying the blue prints so
intently that a little frown gathered between her arched brows, the
spirit and strength were united. The effect of Rosemary on the most
casual beholder, was always one of radiance. The mass of her waving
hair was bronze, said her friends; it was red, it was gold, it was all
of these. Her eyes were like her mother's, a violet blue, but dancing,
drenched in tears or black with storm--seldom patient eyes. She lived
intensely, did Rosemary, and sometimes she hurt herself and sometimes
she hurt others. She could be obstinate--wanting her own way with the
insistence of a driving force; that was the Willis will working in her,
Winnie said. All the Willis children had that trait, Winnie said also.
Rosemary could be sorry and make frank confession. That, Sarah always
thought, was the hardest thing in the world to do.

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