“Yes, and got plucked for your pains!” retorted Jill brutally. Poor Betty! She had passed so well in everything but that fatal arithmetic, which made all the difference between success and failure. The figures would not add up, the lines danced before her eyes, she could not remember the simplest table. It was cruel to rake up that old sore. She pressed her lips together and sat in offended dignity, while Jill skipped to the door, tossing her pretty pert head.
“I shall take care of my health and my nerves, and not have them breaking down just when I need them most. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall be no worse off than you were yourself, and I shall have had my fun!”
She ran downstairs into the hall, where Jack was awaiting her with a brown-paper parcel tucked under his arm, and together they crossed the road to the nearest gate, and let themselves into the garden with a heavy key.
“The other corner is the best,” Jack cried, leading the way forward at an eager pace, “more traffic, and thicker bushes. I spotted the exact place yesterday. Have you got the reel in your pocket all right?”
“Yes, yes! And you must give me my turn, Jack. It’s only fair, because you wouldn’t let me have a parcel of my own on the other side.”
“Of course not! You wouldn’t expect to find two lost parcels within a few yards of each other, would you? You want to give the whole show away!” cried Jack in indignant schoolboy fashion. “Now don’t talk so much, but creep between these bushes when nobody is passing. There’s room for us both, and I can get a pull at the string between these branches. We’ll have a rehearsal now, and see how it works.” He crawled forward on the dank earth, in easy unconcern for the knees of his trousers, dropped the daintily-wrapped parcel on to the centre of the pavement, and crept back to his place, holding in his hand the end of a long black thread.
They crouched together behind the bushes, as mischievous a Jack and Jill as have been known since the world began, giggling with anticipated glee, nudging each other violently at the sound of approaching footsteps, and peering eagerly through their loopholes to see what manner of prey was about to fall into their hands.
First, a fine lady walking gingerly along, both hands occupied in keeping her skirt from contact with the greasy pavement. She looked at the parcel with blank indifference, and passed quietly on her way. The twins gasped with stupefaction. Could such things be? Was it possible that a human creature could be so surfeited with the good things of this world, that she could behold an unopened parcel lying on the ground, and feel no curiosity to discover what was inside? Imagination refused to picture such a position!
“Mad!” was Jack’s scornful explanation. “Mad as a March hare! Ought to be shut up out of the way. Walked straight over the string too. Hope to goodness she hasn’t broken it!”
A flick to the end of the string proved that this fear was unfounded, and the twins composed themselves for another period of waiting. Pedestrians seemed to prefer the pavement by the houses instead of that darker one overshadowed by the trees of the gardens, and several moments elapsed before a brisk footstep announced the approach of a tall, well set-up man clad in a light overcoat. His eye lit on the parcel, he bent his head and stretched out a hand to raise it up. Instantly Jack gave a flick to the string, to which the parcel responded by jumping an inch or two farther along the pavement. The brown-coated man straightened himself, gave a funny little grunt, half amused, half-angry, and strode on his way. He had been a boy himself!