“Well, here I am, Janet.” It was a prosaic reply, but her own heart was beating quickly, nevertheless. “Gee, it’s dark in here! Be a dear and shut down the window on this cable—and draw the shade, then turn on the light. I’m busy getting out of this thing.”
She heard the window and shade come down with a rush. As she stepped free of her conveyance, the lights flashed on, and the cousins flew into each other’s arms.
“Janet!”
“Dorothy!”
For a long moment the girls hugged each other and Janet, the more over-wrought, sobbed on her cousin’s shoulder.
Dorothy was herself deeply touched, but managed to control her feelings. “Come, dear,” she said at last. “We’ll just have to get going, I guess. They’re waiting for you on the roof—and somebody is likely to come to the door. We mustn’t be caught together, you know.”
“I know it.” Janet released her and again Dorothy gasped, for she heard her own voice speaking although the words came from Janet.
“Look, Dorothy!” Janet pointed to a long mirror in the corner of the room. “I knew that we were a lot alike, but I never could have believed—”
“Well, talk about two peas in a pod!” In the glass Dorothy saw herself standing beside her cousin; and had it not been that she wore a coat and hat, while Janet was dressed in a wine-colored silk frock, she would have had difficulty in knowing which was her own reflection. “Maybe I’m half an inch taller, or hardly that,” she said after a bit. “Lucky we both have had our hair shingled. You wear a bang, though—but that’s easily fixed.”
She whipped off her small hat and went over to the dressing table where she picked up a pair of nail scissors. Two minutes of snipping and Janet’s bang was duplicated on her own forehead. The hair she had cut off had been carefully placed on a magazine cover and opening the window a trifle she dropped the ends into the night.