ybody about this, won't you," he would
say hastily, making a comprehensive gesture towards the cottage as they
went.

"Of course we won't."

"I meant, nobody is to know what it's really going to be. They're to
think it's just a _pied-a-terre._ It would most ruin my advertisement
scheme if they--"

"But of _course_ we won't. Have we ever?" the twins would answer,
looking very smug and sure of themselves.

"No. Not yet. But--"

And the hustled man would plunge again into technicalities with
whichever expert was at that moment with him, leaving the twins, as he
needs must, to God and their own discretion.

Discretion, he already amply knew, was not a Twinkler characteristic.
But the week passed, Mrs. Bilton's arrival grew near, and nothing had
happened. It was plain to the watchful Mr. Twist, from the pleasant
looks of the other guests when the twins went in and out of the
restaurant to meals, that nothing had happened. His heart grew lighter.
On the last afternoon, when Mrs. Bilton was actually due next day, his
heart was quite light, and he saw them leave him to go back and rest at
the hotel, because they were tired by the accumulated standing about of
the week, altogether unconcernedly.

The attitude of the Cosmopolitan guests towards the twins was, indeed,
one of complete benevolence. They didn't even mind the canary. Who would
not be indulgent towards two such sweet little girls and their pet bird,
even if it did sing all day and most of the night without stopping? The
Twinkler girls were like two little bits of snapped-off sunlight, or
bits of white blossom blowing in and out of the hotel in their shining
youth and it was impossible not to regard them indulgently. But if the
guests were indulgent, they were also inquisitive. Everybody knew who
Mr. Twist was; who, however, were the Twinklers? Were they relations of
his? _Protegees_? Charges?

The social column of the Acapulco daily paper, from which information as
to new arrivals was usually got, had, as we know, in its embarrassment
at being ignorant to take refuge in French, because French may so easily
be supposed to mean something. The paper had little knowledge of, but
much confidence in, French. _Entourage_ had seemed to it as good a word
as any other, as indeed did _clientele_. It had hesitated between the
two, but finally chose _entourage_ because there happened to be no
accent in its stock of type. The Cosmopolitan guests were amused at the
word, a