Cynthia was soon dressed in exact reproduction of Aunt Betsey's usual costume, with a figured black-lace veil over her face, and, as luck would have it, Jack was at that moment seen coming up the drive. She hastily descended to the parlor, where she and Edith were discovered in conversation when Jack entered the house. "Holloa, Aunt Betsey!" he exclaimed, as he kissed her unsuspectingly. "Have you come back?" "Yes, Jackie," said a prim New England voice with a slightly provincial accent. "I thought I'd like to hear about those little orphan chicks, and so I said to Silas, said I, Silas--" Edith darted from her chair to a distant window, and Cynthia was obliged to break off abruptly, or she would have laughed aloud. Jack, however, took no notice. The mention of the chickens was enough for him. "Don't you want to come down and see the machine? I say, Aunt Betsey, you were a regular brick to send me the money. Did you get my letter?" "Yes, Jackie, and I hope you are reading the book carefully. You will learn a great deal from it, about hens." "Yes. Well, I haven't got any hens yet. Look out for these stairs, Aunt Betsey. They're rather dangerous." This was too much for Cynthia. To be warned about the cellar stairs, over which she gayly tripped at least a dozen times a day, was the crowning joke of the performance. She sat down on the lowest step and shouted with laughter. Jack, who was studying his thermometer, turned in surprise. It was too good. Cynthia tossed up her veil, and turned her crimson face to her brother. "Oh, Jack, Jack, I have you this time! Oh, oh, oh! I never dreamed you would be so taken in!" And she danced up and down with glee. Jack's first feeling was one of anger. How stupid he had been! Then his sense of the ludicrous overcame him, and he joined in the mirth, laughing until the tears rolled down his face. "It's too good to be wasted," he said, as soon as he could speak. "Why don't you go and see somebody? Go to those dear friends of Aunt Betsey's, the Parkers." "I will, I will!" cried Cynthia. "I'll go right away now. Jack, you can drive me there." "Oh no!" exclaimed Edith. "They would be sure to find you out, and it would be all over town. You sha'n't do it, Cynthia." "They'll never find me out. If Jack, my own twin brother, didn't, I'm sure they wouldn't. I'm going! Hurry up, Jack, and harness the horse." Jack went up the stairs like lightning, and was off to the barn. All Edith's pleadings and expostulations were in vain. Cynthia could be very determined when she pleased, and this time she had made up her mind to pay no attention to the too-cautious Edith. She waved farewell to her sister in exact imitation of Aunt Betsey's gesture, and drove away by Jack's side in the old buggy.