“That’s my Bob,” said the woman. “He’s about the age of them two gals.”
“They wasn’t two gals, Maw,” said Bob from the darkness.
“What d’you mean?”
“One was a boy. Yes, she was—a boy! We kids found it out, and that’s why them two lit out over night.”
“Good gracious, Bob! What are you sayin’?”
“That’s right,” said the voice from the dark corner, stubbornly. “They was brother and sister. They owned up. Run away from somewhere, I guess. And then they run away from here.”
Agnes pinched Neale’s arm. “What did I tell you?” she whispered.
“Ouch! I don’t know. You’ve told me so many things, Aggie,” he complained.
“Don’t you remember what Mr. Howbridge told us about the Birdsall twins and the picture he sent out to the police? He showed us that, too.”
“Jumping Jupiter!” gasped the amazed Neale. “Why—why, she,” pointing to the fisher-woman, “didn’t say anything about the twins.”