Uncle George, Liddy, and Jack looked after them proudly, till the road turned and the sound of hoofs died in the distance. Jack was the first to speak.
"Ay! but they're a pretty pair, Capt'n!"
Mr. Reed nodded a happy assent.
"An' do you know, sir, I'm fancyin' of late they're growin' liker to one another."
"Ah?" said Mr. Reed, well pleased. "In what way?"
"Why, in feature, sir, an' manners, an' most ev'ry way."
"Why shouldn't they favor one another," remarked Lydia—"bein' twins? Yet, some way, I don't see it myself, sir, as plain as I might. Shall I serve dinner on the back porch, Mr. George?"
"Well, yes, Lydia, as I shall be alone. The birds and trees will be good company for me."
And so the three separated.
Meanwhile, the D's cantered on, happy as—I was going to say, as birds, but they were happier even than birds; they were happy as happy brothers and sisters.