CK.

It was very dull and dreary for the remainder of the month, typical
November weather, with what the Trevors called a "pea-soup" atmosphere,
deepening now and then into a regular fog. The Square gardens were
soaking with moisture, the surrounding houses looked greyer and gloomier
than ever, until it seemed impossible to believe that the sky had ever
been blue, or that gay-coloured spring flowers had flourished in those
black-looking beds.

Jack and Jill had the bad taste to approve of fogs. They were
"ripping," they declared. "So adventurous and jolly! Yesterday, when I
was walking to school, a hansom drove on the pavement beside me. Think
of that!" cried Jill in a tone of triumph. "The horse's nose nearly
touched my shoulder, and an old lady near me shrieked like anything. It
_was_ sport!"

Jack was rather envious of the hansom episode, but had had his own share
of amusement. "I followed Johnston all the way home, and chaffed him
with a pebble in my mouth to disguise my voice. He was nearly mad with
rage, and whenever he turned round I simply bent double, and he went for
another fellow, and there was no end of a game."

"But how did it happen that you could see him when he couldn't see you?"
queried Jill, when Jack was forced to admit that he _had_ made mistakes
more than once; but it only added to the sport to see the consternation
of innocent pedestrians when an accusing voice suddenly hissed in their
ears, "Who sneaked the indiarubber from Smith's desk?"

The twins were happily constituted to enjoy all things, and from their
conversation it would have appeared that to be hopelessly lost in a fog
would be the climax of earthly joy; but Betty hated the gloom of the
long days, when the gas burned steadily from breakfast to bedtime, and
was nervous about trusting herself alone in the streets. In her leisure
moments she devoted herself to the preparation of Christmas presents,
and turned over the contents of her scrap-drawers, debating how to make
a dozen handsome articles with the least possible expenditure. It is to
be feared that Betty's gifts were arranged more to suit her own
convenience than the tastes of the recipients. "This will make a book-
cover for Jill. I don't suppose she'll ever use it, but it's not big
enough for anything else, so she'll just have to like it!" This was the
spirit in which she assorted her materials, and set to work thereon.
Not the ideal attitude by any means, but o