"What is the matter?" inquired his wife. "Is he going to withdraw that son of his?"
"Not exactly. He has 'shipped'--the word is his own--two more. The second, who is 'shipped' in a postscript, is, apparently, a sort of afterthought."
When the lady and gentleman returned to Mulberry House the new-comers had arrived. The three Masters Bindon were interviewed together. One thing about them was noticeable--that they were all about the same age.
"How old are you?" asked the lady, addressing one of the strangers.
"Twelve."
"And you?"
"I'm twelve."
"Then," said the lady, "I suppose you are twins."
They did not look as though they were twins. One was big, and black, and bony; the other was short, and fat, and red. Still, as they both were twelve, and they were brothers--
"Twins?" said the red-haired lad. "I'm no twin. He's not my brother." He turned upon the two other Masters Bindon with scorn in his eyes. "They're neither of them my brothers. I disown them."