The twins, who were dressed alike in blue print frocks, chuckled.
“This is my sister!” they said, together, each indicating the other. The girls at school used to say that only twins could have made remarks with the absolute unanimity of Jean and Jo. It happened without any previous preparation, as though the two bodies were informed by one mind. Rex and Billy shouted with laughter.
“Well, I’ve met one of you—and good reason I have to know it,” said the bewildered man. “But I’m hanged if I can say which it is. Do you know them apart, Mrs. Weston?”
“Well, nearly always,” said that lady. “I have my moments of uncertainty, but they seldom last long.”
“You’ve a right to brand them!” murmured Mr. Conlan, gazing distressfully.
“When they were smaller, I used to put different coloured ribbons on them,” Mrs. Weston said, laughing. “But I regret to say that they used to change the ribbons!”
“They look as if they might do that,” remarked Tim. “Take pity on me, and tell me which is the one I know!”
“Make a guess, Mr. Conlan!” sang out Billy delightedly. “I don’t believe you’re game!”
Thus adjured, Tim Conlan favoured each twin with a searching glance, and then, indicating Jo with an accusing forefinger, said, “You’re her!”
“Good guess!” said Billy approvingly.