Dr. William Baker, Director. He was unable to regard that
door without a sense of pride. But he was convinced the pride was
thoroughly justifiable.

He turned the knob and stepped into the office. Then his brisk stride
came to a pause. He closed the door slowly and frowned. The room was
empty. Neither his receptionist nor his secretary, who should have been
visible in the adjoining room, were at their posts. Through the other
open door, at his left, he could see that his administrative assistant,
Dr. James Pehrson, was not at his desk.

He had always expected his staff to be punctual. In annoyance that took
some of the glint off this day, he twisted the knob of his own office
door and strode in.

He stopped just inside the room, and a warm wave of affection welled up
within him. All nine members of his immediate staff were gathered around
the table in the center of his office. On the table was a cake with pink
frosting. A single golden candle burned brightly in the middle of the
inscription: Happy Birthday, Chief.

The staff broke into a frighteningly off-key rendition of "Happy
Birthday to You." William Baker smiled fondly, catching the eye of each
of them as they badgered the song to its conclusion.

Afterward, he stood for a moment, aware of the moisture in his own eyes,
then said quietly, "Thank you. Thank you very much, Family. This is most
unexpected. None of you will ever know how much I appreciate your
thoughtfulness."

"Don't go away," said Doris Quist, his blond and efficient secretary.
"There's more. This is from all of us."

He opened the package she offered him. A genuine leather brief case. Of
course, the Government didn't approve of gifts like this. If he observed
the rules strictly, he ought to decline the gift, but he just couldn't
do that. The faces of Doris and the others were glowing as he held up
the magnificent brief case. This was the first time such a thing had
occurred in his office, and a man hit fifty only once.

"Thanks so much for remembering," Baker said. "Things like this and
people like you make it all worth while."

When they were all gone he sat down at his desk to take up the day's
routine. He felt a little twinge of guilt at the great satisfaction that
filled him. But he couldn't help it. A fine family, an excellent
professional position--a position of prominence and authority in the
field that interested him most--what more could a man want?

His meditation was interrupt