But, as if suddenly arrested by some supernatural power, both young men stopped transfixed, and gazed at each other with undisguised astonishment, while expressions of wonder passed from lip to lip among those who were looking on. And it was no wonder, for those two standing in the center of the room might well have been twin brothers instead of utter strangers, for they appeared to be exactly alike in form, and feature, and bearing. Both were fair, with nut-brown hair and blue eyes. Both were tall and well-developed, with a proud bearing that would have made them conspicuous anywhere, although a critical observer might have noticed that Geoffrey was more firmly built, more muscular, perhaps; thus showing greater strength than the other. The intruder was the first to recover himself, however, and remarked, with a toss of his fine head and a long-drawn breath: “I say, Huntress, this is downright queer! We came to give you a little surprise party, and you’ve completely taken the wind out of our sails to begin with. I could almost swear that I was looking at my own reflection in a glass. Who are you, anyway? Give us a history of your antecedents.” “Gentlemen, you have the advantage of me,” Geoffrey politely returned, as he glanced from face to face. “You appear to know me by name—be good enough to tell me whom I have the honor to entertain, then I shall be happy to answer your questions.” “Well, I must say you’re a cool one for a ‘fresh,’” returned the other, with a light laugh, “but we can’t stop for formal introductions all round. Since I am master of ceremonies for the evening, I will introduce myself as Everet Mapleson at your service. I am a Southerner by birth—son of Col. William Mapleson, of ‘Vue de l’Eau,’ Virginia. Now, for your genealogy, young man.” Geoffrey colored. Young Mapleson’s tone was offensive in the extreme, while his manner said as plainly as manner could say, “I belong to one of the F. F. V’s—beat that record if you can,” and Geoffrey’s first impulse was to refuse to comply with his authoritative demand. But he had heard something of the indignities which sophomores sometimes heaped upon unlucky freshmen, and after a moment of thought he quietly replied: “My genealogy is not a remarkable one. I am an orphan, having lost my parents at a very early age, but I have been reared and educated by an uncle, Mr. Huntress, of Brooklyn, New York.” “Is that so?” drawled the young Southerner, with languid insolence. “Then it’s a very singular coincidence, our being the double of each other. Why, one would be almost tempted to swear that the Mapleson blood flows in your veins; but since my governor and I are the very last of our race, that can’t be possible, and it can only be accounted for, I suppose, as a strange freak of nature.”