He discovered that he was still holding the wad of tin-foil in his hand and again started to toss it away.
“Please don’t throw it in the street,” said the right-hand twin earnestly.
“Why not?”
“It is untidy to throw paper and things in the streets.”
“May’s a member of the Village Improvement Society,” explained the left-hand twin.
“Oh! What’ll I do with it, then?”
“Couldn’t you put it in your pocket until you get to a rubbish barrel?” asked the right-hand twin. “You’ll find one at the next corner, you know.”
“All right.” Rodney dropped the tin-foil in his pocket with a grin. “You’re a funny pair, you two.”
“So many people say that,” replied the left-hand twin with something between satisfaction and wonder. “I don’t see why, though. What is it that’s funny, please?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I suppose it’s your being so much alike and—and everything. Do you live in there?” He nodded toward a white house that peeked out from over the overgrown lilac hedge.