"Why, Pettitoes! how very inconsiderate! You won't serve it so another time, _will_ you? Though how a robin can have the face to squeak when he catches it himself at noon, after cramming himself with worms the whole morning, is more than I can see!" "O no, Paul! He was singing most sweetly! I heard him; and so did Rose." "And so did I. He was singing through his nose as bad as Deacon Piper, because he had a worm in his mouth. He couldn't leave off gobbling one single minute,--not even to practise his music." "Let us go out," said Miss Dudley. We did so. Paul's retreating back was all that was to be seen of the boy, with Pet's peaceful chin pillowed upon his shoulder, as, borne off in triumph, he looked calmly back at Lily, who stood shaking her small, chiselled ivory finger at him. Rose was still beside her, with her arm around her waist, as if in propitiation. Two twelve-year-old twins, in twin blue gingham frocks,--they were much addicted to blue and pink ginghams,--they had that indefinable look of _blood_ which belonged to their kin, which is sometimes, to be sure, to be found in families that have no great-grandfathers, after they have been well-fed, well-read, and well-bred for a generation or two, but to which they had an uncommonly good right, as their pedigree--so I afterwards found--ran straight back to the Norman Conquest, without a single "probably" in it. They were, for their age, tall and slender, with yet more springy buoyancy than their aunt in _pose_ and movement. Strangers were always mistaking them for each other. That day I could scarcely tell them apart, though afterwards I wondered at it. Rose was the very prettiest child I ever saw, and Lily pretty nearly the most beautiful person. Lily was already the tallest. Her thick and wavy hair was _blonde cendree_, and all her features were perfectly Grecian. Her eyes were of a very dark blue, that turned into nothing but clear radiance when she was opposed or in any way excited. Her complexion was healthful, but would be described as soft and warm, rather than brilliant. Her whole fair little face was about as firm and spirited as a fair girlish face could be. Rose's larger eyes were of a pure, deep hazel. Her hair, as thick and curly as Lily's, was far more glossy and flossy, and of the yellowest, brightest gold-color. Her nose--a most perfect little nose--was more aquiline than her sister's. Her skin was of the tints of the finest rare-ripe peaches,--pure white and deepening pink; and all around her mouth were dimples lying in wait for her to laugh.