When the J. Dunlap, father of the twin brothers, died, the twins succeeded to the business as well as the other property of their father, share and share alike. To change the name on the office window to Dunlap Bros. was never even dreamed of; such sacrilege would surely have caused the rising in wrath of the long line of ghostly “J. Dunlaps” that had preceded the twins. Hence on this dark day “J. Dunlap” was two instead of one. Handsome men were all the Dunlaps time out of mind, but no ancestor was ever more handsome than the two clean cut, stalwart, white haired old men who with eager gestures and earnest voices discussed the point of difference between them today. “My dear brother,” said the one whose face bore traces of a more burning sun than warms the Berkshire hills, “You know that we have never differed even in trivial matters, and James, it is awful to think of anything that could even be called a disagreement, but I loved your poor boy John as much as I have ever loved you and when he died his motherless little girl became more to me than even you, James, and it hurts my heart to think of my darling Lucy being within possible reach of sorrow and shame.” The fairer one of the brothers bent over and grasping with both hands the raised hand of him who had spoken said with an emotion that filled his eyes with moisture: “God bless you, John! You dear old fellow! I know that that loving heart of yours held my poor boy as near to it as did my own, and that Lucy has ever been the dearest jewel of your great soul, but your love and tenderness are now conjuring up imaginary dangers that are simply beyond a possibility of existence. While I will not go so far as to admit that had I known that there was a trace of negro blood in Burton I should have forbidden his paying court to my granddaughter, still I will confess that I should have considered that fact and consulted with you before consenting to his seeking Lucy’s hand. However, it is too late now, John. He has won our girl’s heart and knowing her as you do you must appreciate the consequences of the disclosure of this discovery and the abrupt termination of her blissful anticipations. It is not only a question of the health and happiness of our dear girl, but her very life would be placed in jeopardy.” This seemed an unexpected or unrealized phase of the situation to the first speaker, for he made no reply at once but sat with troubled brow gazing into the fire for several minutes, then with a sigh so deep that it was almost a groan, exclaimed: