“How well I remember,” Azalea murmured, half to herself, as she sank down upon the bench to rest, “it was just at this time of year that Iris and I first met John Trent. The roses were in bloom then, too.” Kitty and Doris exchanged quick glances, wondering if Azalea was about to branch into the story they had been waiting to hear. She remained silent for several minutes, and when she spoke again it was in a more matter-of-fact tone. “I suppose you wonder why we invited you here, Doris. As I told you before, it is a long story, but if you would like to hear it—” “Indeed I would!” Doris assured her eagerly. “Your uncle, John Trent, was a very fine young man,” Azalea began. “He was handsome and dashing—everything that a girl could wish for. Frequently he called at our home and Iris and I became very fond of him. Unfortunately, we never knew which one he liked better as he seemed devoted to both of us.” “It made us very unhappy,” Iris took up the story. “You see, until John Trent came into our lives we had never had a disagreement. We dressed alike and we enjoyed the same things—we were rather proud of being twins. After we met John, things were entirely different. We no longer wished to resemble each other. Vying for his favor, we even refused to dress alike.” Though no mention was made of any bitter feeling, Doris, reading deeply, guessed that the two ladies had carried their rivalry to such an extent that they had come to actually hate each other. Undoubtedly, the affair had been the talk of the town. “Finally Father stepped in and took a hand,” Iris went on. “He told John that he must marry one of us before the end of the month or he would forbid him to ever step inside the gate again. Oh, it was dreadful!” Here Iris’s voice broke and she could not continue. After a few minutes Azalea tried to take up the story. “The days passed and still John could not choose. Each hour was a nightmare to Iris and to me. We knew the townsfolk were aware of everything and were laughing behind our backs. We became nervous and fairly sick with it all. Father could not bear to see us suffer, and one afternoon, meeting John coming up the path to the house, he stopped him. “I don’t know what passed between them. Iris and I saw only what happened. Father spoke a few angry words to him and then they began to fight. John walked out of the gate, never to return.” “How unfortunate!” Doris murmured. “Yes,” Azalea said quietly, “but that was not the real tragedy. After their quarrel, Father staggered up the walk toward the house. We ran out, but before we could reach him, he fainted. He had always been afflicted with heart trouble, and the excitement was too much. In spite of everything the doctors did for him, he passed away in three days.” “How very sad!” Kitty said sympathetically. “My poor Uncle must have felt dreadfully wicked when he learned of your father’s death,” Doris commented. Iris nodded soberly.