y, looking down the cottonwood-bordered lane.
"They're reading something all together, and laughing. Maybe it's a letter
from the Twins or Anne."

It proved to be a veritable volume from the Blackmore twins, Jean being
the real author, but Jess having lent her personality without stint to the
incident related.

"It's a perfect scream," cried Priscilla, half-choked with laughter as she
came up the steps. "Mary, what do you think? They've seen--no, I won't
tell, Virginia, but read it quick!"

"When is it dated?" asked Mary.

"July 20th," Virginia told her. "The very day you people came. You see,
'twas too early then for any trouble. Would you rather wait to hear it,
Aunt Nan, until you've read your mail?"

Aunt Nan's mail was unimportant, she said, compared to a letter from the
interesting Blackmore twins.

"It's a regular book," announced Virginia, as she settled herself against
a post, and turned the pages. "Jean probably didn't do much sight-seeing
on the afternoon she wrote this.

"'Safe at last in Berlin, Germany,
"'July 20, 19--.

"'DEAR VIRGINIA AND EVERYBODY ELSE:

"'It is only through Anne's economy and Jess' impudence and my genius
at conducting a party that we are here and writing to you. Had each
of us lacked the quality named above, we should to-day doubtless be
languishing within the walls of a German poor-house. But instead we
are in a lovely pension--all together and unspeakably happy.

"'The story in itself is so thrilling that I hate to give you the
_necessary setting_, as Miss Wallace would say, but I must. The first
step is to explain how we all happen to be together. It was this way:
Father and Jess and I _did_ stay in England for a week after all. You
see, Jess had faithfully promised every girl in English History that
she would see Lady Jane Grey's name where she had cut it herself in
the Tower; and I had given my oath to record the impressions made
upon me by the sight of Kenilworth by moonlight. Whether Dad would
have considered those vows worthy or not, we do not know, had it not
been that he wanted to go to the Bodleian Library at Oxford to see
some musty old manuscript or other. So on our way from Liverpool to
Oxford we stopped at Kenilworth, and I _did_ see it at moonlight. I
shall give my impressions at a later date. The search for another old
manuscript