The dresses had only been worn once since, and, as Waveney remarked, were just as good as new. "Shall you wear it every evening, Wave?" Mollie had asked in an awed tone; and when Waveney returned, "Why, of course, you silly child, I have no other frock. In big houses people always dress nicely for dinner; I found that out at Mrs. Addison's," Mollie regarded the matter as quite decided--her oracle had spoken. Mr. Ward had advanced the two pounds without any demur, and the sisters made their modest purchases the following afternoon. As Waveney was re-trimming her hat, and Mollie painting her menu cards, Ann flung open the door somewhat noisily. "Mr. Ink-pen, miss," she announced, in a loud voice; and the next minute Monsieur Blackie entered. He looked trim and alert, as usual; his face beamed when he saw Waveney. "It is the right Miss Ward this time," he said, shaking hands with her cordially. Then he looked at Mollie, and his manner changed. "Will you allow your maid to hang these birds up in your larder?" and he held out a superb brace of pheasants to the bewildered girl. Mollie grew crimson with shyness and delight. "Do you mean they are for us?" she faltered. "Yes, for you and your sister, and your father, and my young friend the humourist. And please remember"--and now his smile became more ingratiating--"that they are from Monsieur Blackie. No, please do not thank me. They were shot by a friend of mine. I rather object to the massacre of the innocents myself, and I prefer doing it by deputy. By the bye, I find I have a new name--your maid is a humourist too. 'Ink-pen'--there is something charmingly original and suggestive about that. It makes Ingram rather commonplace." "Oh, I think you have such a beautiful name!" returned Mollie, artlessly. "It is ever so much better than Ward." Then Waveney nudged her. "I think the pheasants ought to be hung up," she said, rather brusquely; and at this broad hint Mollie limped off, with very pink cheeks. "Whatever made you say that, Mollie?" was her comment afterwards. "I don't think it is quite nice to tell gentlemen that they have beautiful names. I am sure I saw an amused look on Mr. Ingram's face." But Mollie only looked puzzled at this. "Ann is very stupid about names," remarked Waveney, as she took up her work again. "She always calls me Miss Waverley and Noel, Master Noll. Somehow she does not seem to grasp sounds." "Was your sister christened Mollie?" he asked, quickly; and he looked at the menu cards as he spoke. "Yes; it was mother's fancy, and I do so love the name," returned Waveney, in her frank way. "I daresay you would not guess it--people seldom do--but we are twins. Strangers always think Mollie is the elder."