“Mrs. Bennett, you must unpack it alone, mamma said.”
“Alone, mamma said,” came the second voice.
Mrs. Bennett seemed to know exactly what to do. She took out and displayed to May Nell some of the generous gift of child’s wear sent by Mrs. Dorr from the wardrobe of the twins, placed the basket within the door, and introduced the children. Billy wondered what else might be in the basket that made it “act so heavy; it couldn’t be shoes.” He looked critically at May Nell’s small feet.
“This is Evelyn Dorr, and Vilette, her sister,” Mrs. Bennett was saying.
Billy laughed. “Mixed again, mamma. This is Vilette,” he drew one bashful little girl nearer the stranger, “and this is Evelyn, Echo, we call her.”
Mrs. Bennett smiled at her mistake and went in, while Billy took up his mower. The girls looked at one another in the mute scrutiny children bestow on newcomers, May Nell the least embarrassed of the three.
“Are you as old as us? We’re seven,” Vilette said a bit loftily, as she discovered herself taller than May Nell.
“We’re seven,” came the echo.
“Last November.”
“Last November,” piped Evelyn.