"We couldn't if we had tried," said Moke. "Twins are always----" "The same complexion," struck in Poke. "Just like one person." "No, they're not; there's no rule about that," said Perce. "And when you talk of one person--have you heard of the man over in Kennebunk?" "What about him?" asked the twins. "Why, haven't you heard? One half his face," said Perce, "as if you should draw a line straight down his forehead and nose to the bottom of his chin," he drew his finger down his own face, by way of illustration; "one half--it's the right half, I believe--is as black as a negro's. Yes; I'm sure it's the right half." "Pshaw!" said Moke. "Oh, Jiminy!" said Poke. "I don't believe it!" said both together. "It's true, I tell you!" Perce insisted. "My father has seen him; and my father wouldn't lie." "He must have had some disease," said Moke. "He's what they call a leopard," said Poke. "You mean a leper?" laughed Perce. "No; he isn't a leper, nor an albino. Why, boys! didn't you ever hear of such a case? It's quite common, and it's easily explained." "I give it up! How do you explain it?" said the twins. "Simply enough!" exclaimed Perce. "The other side of his face is black too." And he keeled over backward on the hay. It was an old joke which he had indeed heard his father tell; but it was new to the twins, who were completely taken in by it. "Throw him out of the cart!" shrieked Poke, half smothered with laughter, at the same time seizing hold of Perce as if to execute his own order. "I'll jolt him out!" cried Moke, who was driving; and he began to urge the oxen into a heavy, clumsy trot, which shook up the cart and its contents in a way that was more lively than pleasant. "Oh, don't do that!" cried Perce, with the jolts in his voice. "You'll break the e-g-g-s in my ba-ask-et!" "I've had one supper, but I shall want another by the time we get to the beach," said Poke. "So shall I!" cried Perce. "We'll make a big fire on the shore, and have a jolly time. And, I say, boys, let's call for Olly Burdeen, and make him come down on the beach with us to-night." "That will be fun, if he isn't too proud to go with country people now," replied Moke. "Since he's been waiting on city folks, he's as stuck up as if he'd tumbled into a cask of molasses," said Poke. "Olly is all right," said Perce. "He doesn't put on any airs with me. We'll have him with us, anyhow!" CHAPTER IV. OLLY BURDEEN'S NEW CLOTHES. There was but one boarding-house at Beman's Beach in those days. Originally a farm-house, it stood in not the very best situation, a little distance back from the sea, in a hollow of the hills. It was kept by a farmer's widow, Mrs. Murcher, who, as her business expanded, had built on additions until her house looked as if it had the mumps in one enormously swollen cheek.