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THE WALCOTT TWINS

BY

LUCILE LOVELL

ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

PHILADELPHIA MCM




Copyright 1900 by The Penn Publishing Company




CONTENTS


CHAPTER      PAGE

I  Gay and May      5

II  The First Separation      11

III  Just for Fun      16

IV  A Remarkable Household      23

V  More Confusion      30

VI  Being a Boy      37

VII  Being a Girl      44

VIII  A Scene at Rose Cottage      49

IX  Saw and Axe      56

X  A Course of Training      62

XI  The Training Begins      68

XII  A Silver-haired Lady      75

XIII  A Plan that Failed      82

XIV  The Boy Predominates      89

XV  Gay's Popularity Begins      97

XVI  A Squad of One      106

XVII  Concerning Philip      114

XVIII  Dark Days      122

XIX  The Event of the Season      130

XX  The Belle of Hazelnook      141

XXI  The Sky Brightens      151

XXII  The Dearest Girl      162

XXIII  A Great Game      172

XXIV  The Idol Totters      181

XXV  The Girls make Peace      189

XXVI  All's Right Again      194

XXVII  Happy People      199




THE WALCOTT TWINS




CHAPTER I

GAY AND MAY


The Mistress of the house lay among her pillows, her brows drawn into
the nearest semblance of a frown that her gentle countenance could
assume. Nurse—bearing a tiny, moving bundle of muslin and flannel—and
the father were at the bedside.

The father's forehead wore an unmistakable frown. It was evident that
something displeased him, but who would have dreamed that it was the
gurgling mite in the flannel blanket? Yet he pointed in that direction
as he said,—

"Take him away. He has made trouble enough."

"H'indeed, Mr. Walcott," cried nurse, "'E's the best baby h'I' ave ever
seen h'in this 'ouse! 'E's never cried before."

"Take him away!" repeated the father, still frowning. "He may be
the best baby in the world—a future President of the United States,
even,—but he can't stay in this room another minute. Do you
understand?"

"Certainly, sir," nurse replied somewhat tartly.

Nurse thought the father a great bear. Of course she could not tell
him so, but she could and she did show him that an imported English
nurse chooses her own rate of speed. She moved slowly toward the door,
holding her head with its imposing white cap well up in the air, and
looking at Baby as though he were a Crown Prince, instead of the
youngest nursling in an American flock of five. While the door was open
for nurse and her precious burden to pass through, sounds of boisterous
mirth floated into the quiet chamber. It was only the twins, Gay and
May, and little Ned—Alice was in the country—at play in the nursery,
but one would have said that half the children in New York city were
shouting together. The invalid tried to stifle a sigh which did not
escape the father's ear.

"Those torments must go, Elinor!" he exclaimed. "That is the only way
to ensure your recovery."

"Oh, Edward, how can I live without my dear little ones!" murmured the
gentle mother.

Mr. Walcott took his wife's transparent hands in his own and caressed
them tenderly. "Do you want our children's mother to have nerves as
much out of tune as a cracked bell?" said he.

"No."

"Then they must go to-morrow."

"Not Ned—he is too young to be sent away from me."

"Very well; Ned shall stay—three servants may be able to keep him in
order! Now let me see those letters."

Mrs. Walcott drew two letters from beneath her pillow and passed them
to her husband. "Read them aloud," said she; "I half-read them."

Mr. Walcott drew from one of the envelopes a single sheet of blue thin
paper covered with small precise characters traced in the blackest
of ink, with the bluntest of quills. As he moved it a gritty shower
fell, showing the writer to be of the old school which prefers sand to
blotting paper.

 "My Dear Nephew," Mr. Walcott began, "It gives me great pain to learn
 that your dear wife remains ill. Now, I have a proposition to make;
 send Gay up here for a fortnight. His presence will be inexpressibly
 grateful to me, and his absence may be a relief to you at this time.
 Wire me your decision. My compliments to Elinor, and believe me to be,

      "Yours truly,
      "HAROLD S. HAINES."

 "P. S. You may think it singular that I have not included May in
 my invitation, but, candidly, a woman child under my roof would be
 sufficient excuse for me to leave it altogether, so I trust you will
 understand and pardon my omission. Tell Elinor that Sarah will take
 the best of care of the young rascal.

      "H. S. H."

 "Cedarville, N. Y. Aug. 6, 19——."

"A characteristic postscript," laughed Mr. Walcott. "Uncle Harold's
antipathy to 'a petticoat', as he is fond of calling one of your sex,
dear, seems to increase."

"His antipathy is quite out of proportion to our little daughter's
half-yard petticoat," responded the Mistress, smiling faintly. "But go
on, please, with Auntie's letter."

The second letter was quite unlike the first; it was penned in the
most delicate handwriting, on fine white paper, ornamented with a
silver crest, and as Mr. Walcott unfolded it a faint odor of that
old-fashioned scent, lavender, was shed on the air. "A gentlewoman's
letter," one would have said at once.

 "Dear Niece Elinor," read Mr. Walcott. "We were deeply grieved to
 hear of your protracted illness, and we are sure that if you were to
 be relieved of the care of one of the children your recovery would
 be rapid. Will you not send May to us for a fortnight? You need give
 yourself no uneasiness about the dear child's welfare; it will be
 Celia's and my pleasure to take the best care of her. Let us know by
 telegram when she will leave New York and we will make arrangements
 for her to come from the railway station by the stage that passes our
 door—the driver is a most reliable person. With best wishes for your
 speedy return to health, and with kind remembrances to Edward, in
 which Celia joins, I am, my dear niece,

      "Your affectionate aunt,
      "BEULAH LINN."

 "P. S. Celia suggests that you may think it odd that we have not
 included Gay in our invitation, but the truth is, we should not know
 what to do with a lively, noisy boy. We shall enjoy May very much if
 she is like Alice, wholly without those failings of modern childhood—a
 pert tongue, boisterous manners, and slang.

      "B. L."

 "Hazelnook, N. Y., Aug. 6, 19——."

"It is rather strange, isn't it, Edward, that the aunts will have none
of Gay, while the uncle disdains May? It will break their hearts to
separate them."

"It is better so, my dear. Doting father that I am I cannot deny that
Gay and May make a team that gentle maiden ladies or a quiet old
bachelor would find difficult to manage! Shall I go out now and wire
our good relatives that they may expect the children to-morrow?"

"Yes," the Mistress replied, with a sigh of resignation. "And send Gay
and May to me, please