In the morning the twins appeared braced for revolution. When a reception for that afternoon was mentioned, they announced firmly that they were not going. "I think you are wise," said Mrs. Baldwin amiably. "You both look tired." They were conscious of disappointment as well as relief; it was the establishment of a principle they wanted, not coddling. Three weeks went by in the same debilitating peace. The twins were smiled on and left wholly free. They had almost come to believe in a bloodless victory, when Mrs. Baldwin struck--a masterly attack where they were weakest. Her weapon was--not welcome temper, but restrained pathos. "A mere fourteen at dinner and a few coming in to dance afterward, and I do want you twinnies to be there. Now I have not asked one thing of you for three weeks; don't you think you owe Mother some little return?" "But--!" began the twins, with a rush of the well-known arguments. Mrs. Baldwin would not combat. "I ask it as a favor, dear girls," she said gently. They clung to their refusal, but were obviously weakening when she rose to her climax: "Mr. White and Mr. Morton have accepted!" She left them with that, confident and humming to herself. The twins stared at each other in open misery. Reappear now, after the solemn declaration they had made to those two! Their cheeks burned at the thought. They mounted to their room to formulate their resistance, and found two exquisite new gowns, suitable for fairy princesses, spread out like snares. "To please Mother" seemed to be written on every artful fold. And Mrs. Baldwin was not a rich woman, for her way of life; such gowns meant self-denial somewhere. The twins had tears in their eyes. "But if we give in now, we're lost!" they cried. Nothing more was said about the dinner, Mrs. Baldwin gaily assuming success, but avoiding the topic. The twins wore a depressed and furtive air. On the fatal day they had a long interview with Miss Browne, of the Browne School, and came away solemn with excitement, to shut themselves in their room for the rest of the afternoon. A few minutes before the dinner-hour Mrs. Baldwin, triumphant in satin and lace, paused at their door. "Ready, twinnies?" she began, then stared as though disbelieving her eyes. In the glow of the student-lamp sat the twins, books in their hands and piled high on the table beside them; their smooth, dark hair was unpompadoured, their shoulders were lost in the dark blouses of every day. "What does this mean?" Mrs. Baldwin asked shortly, fire in her eyes. "Mother, we told you we could not go to any more parties, and why," Cora answered, a note of pleading in her voice. "We begin teaching on Monday in Miss Browne's school," added Dora more stoutly. "We have tried your way for years and years, mother. Now we have to try ours." Mrs. Baldwin's lace bertha rose and fell sharply.