"It'ly? It'ly?" mused Mr. Pawket. "Well, I made out the I T, all right. Now I ought to 'a' guessed the rest, It'ly bein' a place I'm familiar with." The twins were in conference. "Medusa--you know who she was," remarked the elder twin by four seconds. "Don't, huh? Snakes for hair--hey? Look at you and you turn into stone--hey?" "Shut up! She did not!" "Shut up! She did!" But the other twin busied himself with the post-mark. "A. Malfi," he painfully deciphered.... "Say, Gramp', what's a Malfi?" His brother remained engrossed with the embossed head of Medusa. "Snakes for hair--turned 'em to stone--cut off her head," he chanted, in blissful retrospect. Mr. Pawket, reaching across the table, seized this student by the collar. "Now, now, now! Whose head you cuttin' off?" "Hern," explained this bloodthirsty twin. "She was a bad woman." "Hey! Hey! Hey!" roared Mr. Pawket, with sudden severity. "None of that talk here! You mind your own business, young man. Don't you give us none of that gab." He turned to Mrs. Pawket: "What did I say about that new young feller that's come to teach school? He ain't here for no good--that's what I said!" Mr. Pawket studied the face on the envelope with a sort of curious horror, concluding, "Ef she's what you say she is, see to it that you don't take no more notice of her capers." The twins now registered aggrieved expressions; they scratched curly heads with perturbed spoons. "Medusa's hist'ry." They roared it in hurt explanation. After some discussion of the curious anatomical outline of the supposed honey-bee on the seal, Mrs. Pawket finally slit the envelope with a dinner-knife, and the twins, holding the letter between them, gave a dashing, if slightly incorrect, reading. "AMALFI--IT'LY--HOTEL MEDOOSA. "DEAR MR. AND MRS. PAWKET,--This letter is from William Folsom, the little orphan boy for whom you did so much. What do you think? This boy who boarded with you summers is coming back to America with his wife, an Italian lady you are both sure to love! On account of unforeseen business necessity, Mrs. Folsom and I are forced to give up our charming ... vill ... villain ... villy...." Here one twin ran down. The other twin looked over his brother's shoulder, breathing thickly. "Vanilla," he chewingly instructed. "Vanilla ... our charming vanilla, and on account of recent dev-dev-devil-elope-ments we are leaving It'ly at once. You remember the fine old property my father owned, called Cedar Plains? As I remember, it was not far from your farm where I spent so many happy summers. It is on Cedar Plains that Mrs. Folsom and I plan to erect our new home, an I ... talian van ... vill ... v...." "Vanilla." This time it was Mr. Pawket who blandly supplied the word.