"And to this day she can't say positively but I am Moke, and Moke is me," said Poke.
Perce laughed. "Why didn't you have something besides a couple of teenty-taunty moles to distinguish you?" he asked. "Why didn't one of you be light-complexioned and the other dark? There'd have been some sense in that."
"We couldn't!" said Poke.
"You didn't try," replied Perce.
"We couldn't if we had tried," said Moke. "Twins are always——"
"The same complexion," struck in Poke. "Just like one person."
"No, they're not; there's no rule about that," said Perce. "And when you talk of one person—have you heard of the man over in Kennebunk?"
"What about him?" asked the twins.
"Why, haven't you heard? One half his face," said Perce, "as if you should draw a line straight down his forehead and nose to the bottom of his chin," he drew his finger down his own face, by way of illustration; "one half—it's the right half, I believe—is as black as a negro's. Yes; I'm sure it's the right half."
"Pshaw!" said Moke.