ch I may say neither she nor
her sister are particularly subject--dropped her long lashes over the
orbs in question and looked uncommonly foolish.

The tension of the situation was relieved by the announcement of
luncheon, and Robin was called upon to accompany Kitty downstairs; while
I, putting a consoling arm round the waist of each of my fermenting
sisters-in-law, marched them down to further experiences in the
dining-room.

The Twins rapidly recovered their equanimity at lunch. They sat, as they
always did, together on one side of the table, opposite to Robin. The
latter conversed easily and pleasantly, though his discourse was dotted
with homely phrases and curious little biblical turns of speech.

"Have you been in London long, Mr Fordyce?" inquired Kitty as we settled
down.

"Three years," said Robin.

"I suppose you have lots of friends by this time."

"I have a good many acquaintances, but my friends in London are just
three, all told," said Robin, in what Dilly afterwards described as "a
disgustingly pawky manner."

"You must be very exclusive, Mr Fordyce," chirrupped Dolly.

"Far from it," said Robin; "as you will admit when I say that my three
friends are a policeman, a surgeon, and a minister."

"How quaint of you!" said Dilly.

But Robin did not seem to think it quaint. He told us about the
policeman first--a Highlander. Robin had made his acquaintance in
Edinburgh, apparently about the same time that he made ours, and had
renewed it some years later outside the House of Commons, when a
rapturous mutual recognition had taken place. The policeman's name was
Hector MacPherson.

"And the surgeon?" inquired Kitty, with a certain friendly assumption of
interest which announces (to me) that she is getting a little bored.

"He is just my uncle. I go and see him, whi--now and then. He is a busy
man."

"And the--er--minister?"

"He is Dr Strang. He has the Presbyterian Church in Howard Street. I
have sat under him every Sabbath since I came to London."

"Wh--what for?" asked Kitty involuntarily, and in a rather awestruck
voice. Her acquaintance with the ritual of the Church of Scotland was
hazy, and she was evidently determined to-day to be surprised at
nothing; but evidently this mysterious reference could not be allowed to
pass without some explanation. The Twins convulsively gripped each
other's hands under the table. (They are of course perfectly bred
girls--indeed, their self-possession at