THE SHUT-UPS
It was an early-morning rite practised by the twins, its performance hidden from everybody but each other, to see whether Dr. Murchison's prophecy had come true.
"There were once two little girls—twins," began the old doctor, significantly, the day Bep and Fom were vaccinated, after battling desperately against precedence, in the doctor's very office. "Now all twins love each other dearly."
The twins looked at him pityingly. To be so old and so ignorant!
"Yes, they do," he insisted. "Everybody knows they're fonder of each other than the closest sisters."
Bep glanced at Fom and Fom looked at Bep; there was something almost Chinese in the irony of their eyes; they knew just how fond of each other sisters can be! But they politely suppressed their incredulous grins.
"Well," resumed the old doctor, realizing how lacking in conviction his comparison might seem to a Madigan, "well, these twins were the exception: they did not love each other."
There was an interested movement from Bep.
"They hated each other."
Fom looked up eagerly; there was something human about such a tale. She felt her respect for Dr. Murchison reviving.