well. Shall I send you down to the Library in the auto,--or to one
of the stores? Or will you stay here? I'm afraid you won't find much to
amuse yourself with in this place."

"Nevertheless I'll stay," answered the world-weary voice again. "But
please hurry. I don't like the smell of lysol and ether."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Kit. You'll find a pretty view from that
bay window if you care to look at our scenery." The busy doctor was
gone, and the black-clad figure, left to her own devices for the next
thirty minutes, turned with a heavy sigh toward the window her companion
had indicated, but paused at sight of a bright, alert little face,
peeping around the back of an invalid's chair which she had not noticed
before.

The rosy lips parted in a smile, and before the startled woman could
regain her composure, the child spoke. "So this is _Catarrhar_, is it?"

"My name is Mrs. Wood," answered the woman, dumbfounded by her
salutation.

"But your first name?" persisted the brown-eyed sprite.

"What does it matter?" The woman's voice was cold and crisp.

"Aren't you Dr. Dick's sister?"

"Dr. Dickson Shumway is my brother, if that is what you mean."

"I thought so. Well, he's got better manners than you have."

The woman gasped. Who in the world was this frank, friendly creature? No
one had ever dared to speak like that to her before. Flushed with anger,
she turned to seek another retreat, but Peace forestalled her. "Your
father said you weren't as homely as he is, and that's so. You'd be real
_pretty_ if you just looked a little more human."

"Human!" The exclamation burst from her involuntarily, as the woman sank
limply into the nearest chair and stared in utter surprise at her
tormentor.

"Yes. You look so scowly and--and--oh, so frosty. I like warm faces
that smile and look happy, like Dr. Dick's, you know. Your sister
Penelope has the smile but not the good looks. Pansy has neither, but I
don't blame her. Having such a name and being so fat is enough to make
anyone cross. Her waist tapers in the wrong direction. I've never seen
Carrie, so I don't know what she is like. But you--"

"Who--who are you?" the black-clad figure found voice to stammer.

"Me? I'm Peace--"

"Seems to me that name doesn't fit very well, either," said the other
sarcastically, for Peace's candid criticisms had wounded her pride.

"It's perfectly awful, ain't it?" Peace serenely admitted. "But though I
can't help my name, I