"Well, Winnie, I'm glad to see you again," was Miss Wright's greeting. "You and I are to keep house and look after these flighty young folks, I understand."
"Yes'm," nodded Winnie. "Your room's all ready, Miss Wright—the one you always have, next to Mrs. Willis'. And Doctor Hugh said to tell you he'd be home at quarter of six."
Aunt Trudy Wright was a rather short, dumpy woman and inclined to be stout and short of breath. She had iron-gray hair, near-sighted dark eyes and very pretty, very plump small hands. She exclaimed over her room when she saw it, said that everything was lovely and insisted on kissing the three girls again. Sarah promptly left at this point and was discovered by her brother when he came home, lying flat on the porch rug and absorbed in a book which dealt, in detail, with the health and welfare of rabbits.
"Well you look comfortable," he said good-humoredly. "Aunt Trudy come? Who went to meet her? Where are the other girls?"
"Uh-huh," grunted Sarah, interested at that moment in a description of a balanced diet for her pets.
Dr. Hugh laughed and went on. The house seemed strangely quiet to him, though he could hear Winnie humming in the kitchen and appetizing odors promised a dinner on time. In the upstairs hall, Rosemary tip-toed to meet him, her eyes dark with mystery.
"Hello, where is everyone?" asked her brother, giving her a kiss. "What has happened to Aunt Trudy?"
"She's getting ready for dinner," explained Rosemary. "She's been crying in Mother's room for almost an hour and then her trunks came and she thought she'd change her dress."
"Crying in Mother's room—what for?" demanded Doctor Hugh quickly.
"Oh, because memories were too much for her," quoted Rosemary solemnly. "She made Shirley and me cry, too, but Sarah went down stairs when she tried to kiss her, so she didn't hear her talk."