ers and jolly fellowship and vacations, brought to
them from outside by happier children, almost crazed them with the
longing for it.

It was hard for them when their little friends the Malletts were sent
abroad to school; Naida, now aged twelve, to a convent, and Duane, who
was now fifteen, three years older than the Seagrave twins, accompanied
his mother and a tutor, later to enter some school of art in Paris and
develop whatever was in him. For like all parents, Duane's had been
terribly excited over his infantile efforts at picture-making--one of
the commonest and earliest developed of talents, but which never fails
to amaze and delight less gifted parents and which continues to
overstock the world with mediocre artists.

So it was arranged that Colonel Mallett should spend every summer abroad
with his wife to watch the incubation of Duane's Titianesque genius and
Naida's unbelievable talent for music; and when the children came to bid
good-bye to the Seagrave twins, they seized each other with frantic
embraces, vowing lifelong fidelity. Alas! it is those who depart who
forget first; and at the end of a year, Geraldine's and Scott's letters
remained unanswered.

At the age of thirteen, after an extraordinary meeting of the directors
of the Half Moon Trust Company, it was formally decided that a series of
special tutors should now be engaged to carry on to the bitter end the
Tappan-Seagrave system of home culture; and the road to college was
definitely closed.

"I want my views understood," said Mr. Tappan, addressing the board of
solemn-visaged directors assembled in session to determine upon the fate
of two motherless little children. "Indiwidoolism is nurtured in
excloosion; the elimination of the extraneous is necessary for the
dewelopment of indiwidoolism. I regard the human indiwidool as sacred.
Like a pearl"--he pronounced it "poil"--"it can grow in beauty and
symmetry and purity and polish only when nourished in seclusion.
Indiwidoolism is a poil without price; and the natal mansion,
gentlemen--if I may be permitted the simulcritude--is its oyster.

"My old friend, Anthony Seagrave, shared with me this unalterable
conwiction. I remember in the autumn of 1859----"

The directors settled themselves in their wadded arm-chairs; several
yawned; some folded their hands over their ample stomachs. The June
atmosphere was pleasantly conducive to the sort of after-luncheon
introspection which is easily soothed b