pretty brown eyes, which are just as good."

Mr. said: "You can't compare her complexion with Helena's."

Mrs. said: "I like Eunice's pale complexion. So delicate."

Young Miss struck in: "I admire Helena's hair--light brown."

Young Master took his turn: "I prefer Eunice's hair--dark brown."

Mr. opened his great big mouth, and asked a question: "Which of you two
sisters is the oldest? I forget."

Mrs. answered for me: "Helena is the oldest; she told us so when she was
here last."

I really could _not_ stand that. "You must be mistaken," I burst out.

"Certainly not, my dear."

"Then Helena was mistaken." I was unwilling to say of my sister that she
had been deceiving them, though it did seem only too likely.

Mr. and Mrs. looked at each other. Mrs. said: "You seem to be very
positive, Eunice. Surely, Helena ought to know."

I said: "Helena knows a good deal; but she doesn't know which of us is
the oldest of the two."

Mr. put in another question: "Do _you_ know?"

"No more than Helena does."

Mrs. said: "Don't you keep birthdays?"

I said: "Yes; we keep both our birthdays on the same day."

"On what day?"

"The first day of the New Year."

Mr. tried again: "You can't possibly be twins?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps Helena knows?"

"Not she!"

Mrs. took the next question out of her husband's mouth: "Come, come, my
dear! you must know how old you are."

"Yes; I do know that. I'm eighteen."

"And how old is Helena?"

"Helena's eighteen."

Mrs. turned round to Mr.: "Do you hear that?"

Mr. said: "I shall write to her father, and ask what it means."

I said: "Papa will only tell you what he told us--years ago."

"What did your father say?"

"He said he had added our two ages together, and he meant to divide
the product between us. It's so long since, I don't remember what the
product was then. But I'll tell you what the product is now. Our two
ages come to thirty-six. Half thirty-six is eighteen. I get one half,
and Helena gets the other. When we ask what it means, and when friends
ask what it means, papa has got the same answer for everybody, 'I have
my reasons.' That's all he says--and that's all I say."

I had no intention of making Mr. angry, but he did get angry. He left
off speaking to me by my Christian name; he called me by my surname. He
said: "Let me tell you, Miss Gracedieu, it is not becoming in a young
lady to mystify her elders."

I had heard that it was respectful in a