ouldn't ever have it
back, because it was spent. Still, he might do something with the
spender.

The Wilbur twin slunk farther into friendly shadows, and not until the
groups separated and the four Whipples were in their waiting carriage
did he venture into the revealing sunlight. But no one paid him any
attention. The judge and Mrs. Penniman walked up the shaded street, for
the Sunday dinner must be prepared. Winona and the Merle twin, both
flushed from the recent social episode, turned back to the church to
meet and ignore him.

"Fortune knocks once at every one's door," Winona was mysteriously
saying.

The Wilbur twin knew this well enough. The day before it had knocked at
his door and found him in.

There was still Sunday-school to be endured, but he did not regard this
as altogether odious. It was not so smothering. The atmosphere was less
strained. One's personality could come a bit to the front without
incurring penalties, and one met one's own kind on a social
plane--subject to discipline, it was true, but still mildly enjoyable.
It was his custom to linger here until the classes gathered, but to-day
the Whipple pony cart was driven up by the Whipple stepmother and the
girl with her hair cut off. Apparently no one made these two go to
church, but they had come to Sunday-school. And the Wilbur twin fled
within at sight of them. The pony cart, vehicle in which he had been
made a public mock, was now a sickening sight to him.

Sunday-school was even less of a trial to him than usual. The twins
were in the class of Winona, and Winona taught her class to-day with
unwonted unction; but the Wilbur twin was pestered with few questions
about the lesson. She rather singled Merle out and made him an
instructive example to the rest of the class, asking Wilbur but twice,
and then in sheerly perfunctory routine: "And what great lesson should
we learn from this?"

Neither time did he know what great lesson we should learn from this,
and stammered his ignorance pitiably, but Winona, in the throes of some
mysterious prepossession, forgot to reprove him, and merely allowed the
more gifted Merle to purvey the desired information. So the Wilbur twin
was practically free to wriggle on his hard chair, to exchange noiseless
greetings with acquaintances in other classes, and to watch Lyman
Teaford, the superintendent, draw a pleasing cartoon of the lesson with
coloured chalk on a black-board, consisting chiefly of a rising yell