"Hulloa! where's the Twins?"
"Eh?"
"Es this a round game, or a conjurin' trick?"
"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Fogo turned a dull gaze upon him. Caleb set down the tureen with a crash, and rushing up shook his master gently, but firmly, by the collar.
"Where—be—they—Twins?"
"Oh! The Twins? They have gone—gone some five minutes. I saw them out. It's all—Bless my soul, how extraordinary, to be sure!"
Caleb did not wait for the end of the sentence, but darting out, discovered the brothers in the porch, and haled them back.
"I beg your pardon most heartily," said Mr. Fogo, as they appeared; "the fact is—"
"There's no call, sir. I reckon us'll get the grip o't wi' time an' practice; on'y bein' new to the ropes, so to spake—"
Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin. She broke into a merry laugh.