Claudius Tiberius had the misfortune to appear, and, immediately
perceiving his mistake, whisked under the sofa, from whence the other twin
determinedly haled him, using the handle which Nature had evidently
intended for that purpose.

"Will you kindly tell me," demanded Mrs. Carr, when she could make herself
heard, "what is the meaning of all this?"

"I do not understand you," said the mother of the twins, coldly. "Were you
addressing me?"

"I was," returned Mrs. Carr, to Dick's manifest delight. "I desire to know
why you have come to my house, uninvited, and made all this disturbance."

"The idea!" exclaimed the woman, trembling with anger. "Will you please
send for Mr. Judson?"

"Mr. Judson," said Dorothy, icily, "has been dead for some time. This
house is the property of my husband."

"Indeed! And who may your husband be?" The tone of the question did not
indicate even faint interest in the subject under discussion.

Dorothy turned, but Harlan had long since beat an ignominious retreat,
closely followed by Dick, whose idea, as audibly expressed, was that the
women be allowed to "fight it out by themselves."

"I can readily understand," went on Dorothy, with a supreme effort at
self-control, "that you have made a mistake for which you are not in any
sense to blame. You are tired from your journey, and you are quite welcome
to stay until to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" shrilled the woman. "I guess you don't know who I am! I am
Mrs. Holmes, Rebecca Judson's own cousin, and I have spent the Summer here
ever since Rebecca was married! I guess if Ebeneezer knew you were
practically ordering his wife's own cousin out of his house, he'd rise
from his grave to haunt you!"

Dorothy fancied that Uncle Ebeneezer's portrait moved slightly. Aunt
Rebecca still surveyed the room from the easel, gentle, sweet-faced, and
saintly. There was no resemblance whatever between Aunt Rebecca and the
sallow, hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed termagant, with a markedly receding
chin, who stood before Mrs. Carr and defied her.

"This is my husband's house," suggested Dorothy, pertinently.

"Then let your husband do the talking," rejoined Mrs. Holmes,
sarcastically. "If he was sure it was his, I guess he wouldn't have run
away. I've always had my own rooms here, and I intend to go and come as I
please, as I always have done. You can't make me believe that Ebeneezer
gave my apartments to your husband, nor him either, and I wouldn't advise
any of