“O-oh!” exclaimed May from her post, with a protesting wriggle. “You know it’s beautiful! It—it’s wonderful!”
“It’s called the American Rhine,” added Matty conclusively, “and I guess that settles it! And you needn’t say you’ve got rivers in your state that are finer, because you haven’t, and we don’t believe it!”
“I didn’t say in my state,” denied Rodney. “I said out west. And we have—stacks of them! They’re not so—so placid, maybe, but they’re much grander and—and picturesquer.”
“They’re not,” said Matty indignantly.
“They are,” said Rodney firmly.
“They couldn’t be! How could they? Why—why——”
“Still, Matty, we don’t know,” interposed May cautiously, “and so perhaps we oughtn’t to contradict him. I don’t think it is very nice of him to say our river isn’t beautiful, but maybe he doesn’t see beauty. They say some folks don’t. It—it’s a deficiency, you know.”
“Beauty!” scoffed Rodney. “Why——”
“Perhaps you’re right, May,” said the other twin thoughtfully. “And so—we beg your pardon for contradicting you.”