ory--a hypothesis that
enraged Bep--was that Mrs. Guy St. Gerald was the wealthy member of the
family, and that her husband basely envied her her good fortune. She had
a way, had Fom, of carrying on imaginary conversations with Mr. Clair
upholding this idea, which made her twin long to rend her, and the doll
too, limb from limb.

"Ah, Mr. Clair! Yes, thank you. Mrs. Clair not in?... I'm sorry. Gone
off to Newport, has she, to sell her marble palace? What about the one
on Fifth Avenue?... You don't say! Making it bigger? Well, well! And
made a million in stocks, too. How delightful! You wish that you had
some money--yes, I suppose--"

"He does not! He does not!" The interruption came fiercely from Bep.
"You talk to your own doll and leave mine alone."

"Pouf! If you're afraid he'll tell me how poor he is--"

"He ain't poor."

"What does he wear such trousers for, then? Tell me that!"

Bep looked unutterable things at her twin. "Just you make men's clothes
for a while, Fom Madigan, and see how 't is yourself!" she cried.

"Put Mrs. Clair in men's clothes?" demanded Fom, purposely
misunderstanding. "I'd like to see myself! The very richest lady in New
York in men's clothes--why, you could get arrested for that!"

"I'll change--" began Bep, quickly.

"No, thank you. You couldn't suit Mrs. Clair. She's that particular
about her things!"

"Well, just the same, I won't make men's clothes any more." Bep rolled
her head threateningly.

"Going to let Mr. Clair go naked?" inquired Fom, pleasantly. "He'll have
to be sent to the poorhouse, then."

"He sha'n't! He'll go to bed sick first, and then Mrs. Clair'll just
have to stay home in an old wrapper and nurse him."

"No; she'll take Anita and go off to the country.... Are you so sick,
Mr. Clair?" began Fom, while her slower twin danced with apprehension of
the outcome of this one-sided dialogue. "I'm awful sorry. Smallpox? Oh,
how dreadful! And that's why Mrs. Clair and Anita have gone--"

"'T ain't! 'T ain't smallpox! 'T ain't! 'T ain't! 'T ain't!" Bep hopped
about on one foot in her excitement.

"How do you know?" asked Fom, calmly. "Are you the doctor?"

The doctor lived in the flat below. He was a ready-dressed gentleman,
still stylish if a bit seedy, and his large family overflowed down into
the next two shelves. He was summoned.

"I have called you, doctor,"--began Fom.

"I've sent for you, doctor,"--interrupted Bep.

"Well!" exclaimed Fom, stiffly, "I