s. Baldwin laughed.

"You foolish twinnies! I know--some one has been hurting your feelings.
Believe me, my dears, even I did not always get just the partner my
heart was set on! And I cried over it in secret, just like any other
little girl. That is life, you know--we can't give up before it. Now
smooth yourselves and come down, for some of them are leaving."

She blew them a kiss and went off smiling. After a dejected silence Dora
took up the forget-me-not wreath and replaced it.

"I suppose we might as well finish out this evening," she said. "But the
revolution has begun, Cora!"

"The revolution has begun," Cora echoed.

In the drawing-room they found Mrs. Baldwin talking with Mr. Morton and
Mr. White. They were evidently trying to say good night, but she was
holding them as inexorably as if she had laid hands on their coats; or
so it seemed to the troubled twins. She summoned her daughters with her
bright, amused glance.

"My dears," she said, "these two good friends were going to run away
just because they do not dance the cotillion. We can't allow that.
Suppose you take them to the library and make them wholly comfortable.
Indeed, they have danced enough, Mr. White; I am thankful to have them
stop. I will take the blame if their partners are angry."

She nodded a smiling dismissal. Disconcerted, wholly ill at ease, the
four went obediently to the library, deserted now that the cotillion was
beginning. The two men struggled valiantly with the conversation, but
the twins sat stricken to shamed dumbness: no topic could thrive in the
face of their mute rigidity. Silences stalked the failing efforts. Mr.
White's eyes clung to the clock while his throat dilated with secret
yawns; Mr. Morton twisted restlessly and finally let a nervous sigh
escape. Dora suddenly clasped her hands tightly together.

"We hate it just as much as you do," she said distinctly.

They turned startled faces toward her. Cora paled, but flew to her
sister's aid.

"We knew you didn't want to come," she added with tremulous frankness.
"We would have let you off if we could. If you want to go now, we won't
be--hurt."

They rose, and so did the bewildered visitors.

"I am afraid you have--misunderstood," began Mr. White.

"No; we have always understood--everybody," said Dora, "but we pretended
not to, because mother--But now we have done with society. It is a
revolution, and this is our last party. Good night." She held out her
hand.