It was not long after they had returned to the ballroom until the twins
found themselves in the center of a group of laughing girls.
"It would be a regular game," Gladys Manners announced.
"What would?" Phyllis demanded.
"Guessing which was which," Gladys told her.
"Oh, let's try it," half-a-dozen voices exclaimed.
They put the twins side by side, and then the girls took turns guessing.
Between turns the twins would change places, or remain where they were.
"Oh, this is too much!" Prue exclaimed, after she had stared at them for
a full minute. "I'm dizzy with looking from one to the other of you, but
I'm blessed if I know which one I sat next to at dinner."
"This is going to be too complicated. I vote that we do something about
it." Ann Lourie spoke with a Southern intonation, but it was different
from Miss Hull's speech and Poppy's lazy drawl. She came from New
Orleans, which accounted for the difference.
"What are you all doing?" Poppy, with her arm around Gwen's broad
shoulders, joined them.
"We're playing a new game," Gladys announced. "It's called 'Guessing the
Twins.'"
"You're it, Poppy," Prue laughed. "See if you can do it."
Poppy tried. The twins looked up at her provokingly. Their soft brown
hair waved back from their forehead with almost identical curls. Their
heads, exactly the same oval shape, were pressed close together. Their
red lips each smiled a twisted smile, and their golden-brown eyes, so
like the color of autumn leaves, danced mischievously.
"I declare to goodness there isn't anybody on earth that can tell you
two apart," Poppy laughed.
"Oh, but there are!" Phyllis told them. "Sally never gets us mixed up."
"Oh, that's easy to understand," Gwen remarked. "Sally just asks Aunt
Jane's poll-parrot which is which, and that bird, you know, can tell her
anything."
"Just the same, it's going to be complicating," Ann repeated, "and I
suggest that we make one of them wear something to distinguish her from
the other. It need only be something tiny, just big enough for our
select group," her eyes travelled from Prue to Gladys and to Poppy and
Gwen.
"That's a mighty good idea of yours, Ann, and as representatives of the
senior class"--Gwen was captain of sports--"we endorse it."
"The question is, what shall it be?" Prue inquired.
"I know." Gladys unpinned a tiny little gold pin that she was wearing.
It was the shape of the crescent moon, and was no bigger than a good
sized pea.
"It's an old class pin I had years ago when I went to day school. I
don't know what possessed me to put it on yesterday when I left
home----"
"I do," Prue interrupted. "You had a snapper off, and you thought that
would show less than an ordinary pin."
"Untidy little wretch you are," Ann agreed.
The rest looked at Gladys' cuff and, sure enough, there was a snapper
off. Gladys, under their laughing scrutiny, was no whit embarrassed.
"Course I'm untidy," she agreed; "that's because I'm an artist, and it's
being done this year. You couldn't expect me to be as neat as Prue, the
immaculate."
Prue laughed good-naturedly. "Meaning I am not an artist," she remarked.
"Well, nobody will dispute that with you, least of all Miss Remsted."
The rest of the old girls laughed as at some well known joke and the
twins smiled in sympathy.
"Prue tried to have a crush on Miss Remsted last year," Poppy explained.
"We don't encourage them--crushes, I mean--at Hilltop, but Prue is
stubborn--comes from New England, you know, where the word was
coined--and she would have a crush in spite of the fact that she had
been here two years and knew that we would have to take drastic steps to
cure her."
"You did and I'm cured; can't we spare them the harrowing details?" Prue
protested.
"No; it may be a lesson they'll need, and besides, Poppy loves to point
a moral," Gwen remarked. "Go on, Poppy; let's hear the awful end."
"It's coming; just you listen." Poppy directed her story to the twins.
"Prue suddenly decided, about the middle of the term, that she was a
budding young artist and that all she needed was a little special
instruction, so she went to Miss Hull and got permission to take special
art. Then she went to Miss Remsted----." Poppy paused to chuckle in
anticipation.
"Miss Remsted told her to bring her her best sketch," she continued.
"Now, Prue had never made a sketch in her life, but she reckoned it
would be easy enough."
"Prue's a futurist," Gwen interrupted.
"So she about made up her mind to draw an animal. What made you choose
something that was living, Prue? I never did understand."
"Then you never will, because I'm not going to tell you," Prue replied
airily.
"Oh, but I am," Ann smiled reminiscently. "The day before she did the
sketch she came to me and asked me if a great many artists hadn't made
their start by drawing pictures of animals. I thought for a minute and
then----"
"To show off the knowledge that you haven't got"--Gladys took up the
story--"you casually mentioned Rosa Bonheur, and Prue went straight to
her desk and----" She turned to Poppy.
"Drew--I mean sketched--the gardener's watch dog," Poppy went on. "He
was a nice dog, but not very sketchable. You all know how dogs will jump
'round, so you can't blame Prue for what happened. She finished the
sketch and took it to Miss Remsted."
"I did not, I _left_ it for her in the studio," Prue corrected.
"Left it; excuse me, I stand corrected," Poppy continued. "History does
not repeat just what Miss Remsted said or did, but when Prue went to her
desk next morning she found her dog with this little note pinned to his
tail--not literally, you understand, but figuratively: 'Prue, dear; it's
a very nice little rabbit, but it's a pity he has the mumps.'"
The laugh that followed was led by Prue. The twins exchanged glances.
They were both thinking how very differently some of the girls at Miss
Harding's would have taken such teasing.
Phyllis always liked and was liked by girls, so she gave the matter less
consideration than Janet. Janet's heart glowed; here were the kinds of
girls that she had dreamed about. Their teasing stopped before it became
unkind. Their laughter held no hint of derision; and, above all, she was
conscious of the feeling of fellowship and understanding that existed
between them. She found herself wishing that she could be the brunt of
their teasing, for somehow, she felt that in that way only could she be
admitted to the happy sisterhood.
"There's a strong bond between sister classes at Hilltop," Gladys was
explaining. "That's the reason that Gwen and Poppy prefer to talk to us,
who are only Sophomores, instead of joining that group of
important-looking Juniors over there." She pointed to half-a-dozen girls
a little older than the twins who were laughing and joking at the other
side of the room.
"They'll adopt the Freshmen and make them behave," Prue exclaimed.
"While it is the Senior's painful duty to see that our class keeps out
of mischief," Gladys laughed.
The twins smiled. They liked the way these girls finished each other's
sentences and interrupted each other without giving and taking offence.
Ann looked up at the clock--a grandfather one--which stood in the corner
of the big room and chimed out the hours drowsily.
"'Most time for Sally to come," she announced. "Let's go and watch for
her."