It was impossible for any one who was not very familiar with them to tell whether it was the same twin who had spoken last or the other one; and Sally had taken her eyes off them when she spoke of Charlie. "With Uncle John and Cousin Martha," she answered. "I've never called her Patty H. and I don't think it's very respectful." The twins grinned. "W--w--we c--c--call her P--P--Patty H. be--be--bec--c--cause it's h--h--hard to s--s--say Haa--Ha--Ha--Ha--_Hav_ering." Sally had hard work to suppress her chuckles. The other twin made no effort to suppress his; he laughed heartlessly. His brother turned upon him. "Sh--sh--shut up, you b--b--bum, you! You c--c--couldn't s--s--say it." Sally essayed to be peacemaker. "You know," she said hesitatingly, "that you are so much alike that I can't tell you apart. You're just like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and you seem to quarrel just the same as they did. Now, you're Tweedledum," she went on, pointing at one, and then at the other, "and you're Tweedledee. If Dum would wear a red ribbon in his buttonhole and Dee would wear a blue one, I should know. It's very convenient to know." The idea of wearing ribbons in their buttonholes did not seem to strike the twins favorably. They shook their heads. "Well," said Sally hastily, "there's another thing: you were thumping on the fence and singing--" "We c--c--can s--s--sing all right when we c--c--can't t--t--talk. S--some d--days are go--g--good for t--talking and s--some are b--b--bad. Th--this is a b--bad d--day." "Yes, I suppose so. But what I was going to say was this: you were singing something that may have been meant to plague Cousin Martha. I want you to promise not to try to plague her. You will promise, won't you?" The twins grinned again and promised with evident reluctance. "You g--going to our s--s--school?" inquired Dum suddenly. "I don't know about schools," Sally replied. "I suppose I'm going to some school, and Charlie, too." "Ours," Dum began; but at the mention of school Dee started. "G--g--gee!" he exclaimed. "We g--g--got to h--h--hurry or we'll be l--late. C--c--come on." The twins were gone. Sally and Charlie got down from the fence. "They were a funny pair, weren't they, Charlie?" "Yes, they were. Now, Sally," Charlie went on dismally, "what you goin' to do?" Sally sighed. It was not nine o'clock and Charlie was in the dumps already. She looked around and there was Miss Hazen just coming out of the front door. "There's Cousin Martha, Charlie. Let's go and meet her." Charlie was not in a state to be enthusiastic about anything, certainly not about Cousin Martha. He didn't care; but he went, in a condition of dismal melancholy that touched her. "Homesick, poor child!" she murmured. "Charlie," she said aloud, "I am going downtown in the carriage, to do some errands. Don't you want to go? You and Sally?" Charlie thereupon brightened perceptibly. "I'll go if you want me to."