interrupted Mr. Twist. "You're not
old enough."

Not old enough? The Twinklers, from their separate rocks, looked at each
other in surprised indignation.

"Not old enough?" repeated Anna-Rose. "We're grown up. And I don't see
how one can be more than grown up. One either is or isn't grown up. And
there can be no doubt as to which we are."

And this the very man who so respectfully had been holding their chairs
for them only a few minutes before! As if people did things like that
for children.

"You're not old enough I say," said Mr. Twist again, bringing his hand
down with a slap on the rock to emphasize his words. "Nobody would take
you. Why, you've got perambulator faces, the pair of you--"

"Perambulator--?"

"And what school is going to want two teachers both teaching the same
thing, anyway?"

And he then quickly got out his plan, and the conversation became so
heated that for a time it was molten.

The Twinklers were shocked by his plan. More; they were outraged. Go to
school? To a place they had never been to even in their suitable years?
They, two independent grown-ups with L200 in the bank and nobody with
any right to stop their doing anything they wanted to? Go to school now,
like a couple of little suck-a-thumbs?

It was Anna-Rose, very flushed and bright of eye, who flung this
expression at Mr. Twist from her rock. He might think they had
perambulator faces if he liked--they didn't care, but they did desire
him to bear in mind that if it hadn't been for the war they would be now
taking their proper place in society, that they had already done a
course of nursing in a hospital, an activity not open to any but adults,
and that Uncle Arthur had certainly not given them all that money to
fritter away on paying for belated schooling.

"We would be anachronisms," said Anna-Felicitas, winding up the
discussion with a firmness so unusual in her that it showed how
completely she had been stirred.

"Are you aware that we are marriageable?" inquired Anna-Rose icily.

"And don't you think it's bad enough for us to be aliens and
undesirables," asked Anna-Felicitas, "without getting chronologically
confused as well?"

Mr. Twist was quiet for a bit. He couldn't compete with the Twinklers
when it came to sheer language. He sat hunched on his rock, his face
supported by his two fists, staring out to sea while the twins watched
him indignantly. School indeed! Then presently he pushed his hat back
and began s