Her new friend had made a great impression on Rosemary and Sarah was forced to listen the next day to glowing accounts that rather bored her. Sarah's present interests were confined to one sick rabbit and one well rabbit who lived in a hutch in the roomy side yard.
"I'm sick of hearing about Nina Edmonds," declared Sarah as they sat down to dinner the following evening. "I don't call her anything wonderful."
Doctor Hugh had not come in, and Rosemary had volunteered to serve in his place. Aunt Trudy frankly disliked either carving or serving.
"I think she is lovely," maintained Rosemary, "and I'm going to have my hair bobbed like hers."
It was a warm night and under the glow of the electrolier Rosemary's magnificent hair curled and shone like polished bronze. Even Aunt Trudy stared at her, surprised, and the practical Sarah was moved to protest.
"I think your hair is nice the way it is," she said. "I'd leave it alone if I were you."
Winnie paused, on her way to the kitchen.
"Don't let Doctor Hugh hear you say any such nonsense," she scolded. "The idea! Bobbing a head of hair like that—it's going directly against the generosity of the Lord!"
"What is?" demanded a pleasant voice, and Doctor Hugh came into the room.
He had changed to a fresh linen suit at the Jordan office, as the town had designated it to distinguish it from his home office, and he looked so wholesome and clean and strong and smiling that the four faces brightened at once.