ome on, let's hurry home. There's
some putty in the cellar and I'm going to try."

Janet, used to her twin's sudden whims, followed in amused silence.

When they reached home they found a letter from Sally awaiting them.

"Oh, read it quick!" Phyllis exclaimed. "No, wait a minute. Let's go
up to the snuggery and get comfy." She went off to find some putty and
joined Janet a few minutes later.

"Now read," she said, as she cuddled down into the corner of the couch.

Janet opened the letter and began,

"Dearest of Twins (she read):

"I am in the infirmary, pretending to have a cold but don't waste time
worrying about me for it's all a fake to get a chance to breathe, which
is something that I find you are not supposed to do at Hilltop (isn't
that a precious name for a school? I like it better every time I think
of it), except when you sleep.

"I know you both think me a heartless wretch for not having written
oftener, but honestly I haven't time. It is go, go, go, from morning
till night. I used to think we kept pretty busy but we were tortoises
compared to the rate here. Up every morning at seven, lessons begin at
nine, lunch is at twelve-thirty; more lessons until two, and then the
rest of the day is yours. No study hours unless you are reported by
some teacher for not being prepared, then the wrath of the gods
descends upon your head and you are packed off to Assembly Hall and
made to work for two hours a day for a whole week. You may better
believe that we study to keep our blessed privilege.

"The girls have a joke on me, and they tease all the time. I said Aunt
Jane's poll parrot just once. That was enough! They pretend now that
there is such a bird and that I keep him hidden in my room. They ask
after his health morning, noon and night, and ask me quite seriously to
consult him. Even the teachers do it. I nearly died in history class
when Miss Jenks, a love and nothing but a girl, just out of college,
asked me the date of the Battle of Hastings, I couldn't remember and
she looked at me so impishly and said, 'Better ask Aunt Jane's poll
parrot.' Imagine Ducky Lucky doing such a thing.

"I haven't told you one thing that I wanted to and this letter is all
one grand jumble, but I'll try to do better next time.

"You simply must come next year; must, must, must. I've written Mother
to persuade your aunt, and she has promised to try.

"Write soon and forgive blots. One of the girls is r