window and looked after them. They were
lads any father might be proud of, straight, well-built, handsome
English lads of about sixteen. Rupert was somewhat taller than Edgar,
while the latter had slightly the advantage in breadth of shoulders.
Beyond the fact that both had brown hair and gray eyes there was no
marked likeness between them, and their school-fellows often wondered
that there should not be more similarity between twins. Both had
pleasant open faces, and they were equally popular among their
school-fellows. As to which was the cleverest, there were no means of
ascertaining; for although both were at Cheltenham together, one was on
the modern and the other on the classical side, Captain Clinton having
made this arrangement purposely in order that there should be no rivalry
between them, and the unpleasantness that sometimes arises when two
brothers are at the same school, and one is more clever than the other,
was thereby obviated. Rupert was the more lively of the two, and
generally did the largest share of talking when they were together; but
Edgar, although he talked less, had the more lively sense of humour, and
the laughter that broke out in the garden was caused by some quiet
remark of his. Captain Clinton turned sharply round upon hearing a sigh
from his wife.

"Well, Lucy, I know what you are thinking: another holiday over, and we
are no nearer to the truth. I own that our plan has failed so far, for I
can't see in either of the boys a shadow of resemblance either to you or
myself. Some people profess to see likenesses. Mr. Tomline remarked
yesterday that he should have known Rupert anywhere as my son, but then
Colonel Wilson said the day before that Edgar had got just your
expression. I don't see a scrap of likeness either way, and I begin to
think, dear, that I don't want to see it."

"No, I don't want to see it either, Percy; I love one as well as the
other. Still I should like to know which is our own."

"I used to think so too, Lucy; but I have been doubting for some time
about it, and now I am quite sure that I don't want to know. They are
both fine lads, and, as you say, we love one just as well as the other.
Parental instinct, you see, goes for nothing. I should like to know that
one of them was my son, but on the other hand I should be very sorry to
know that the other wasn't. I think, dear, that it is much better as it
is. We have got two sons instead of one; and after all, the idea tha