for them,
and was quite happy.

But Mrs. Ridding only stared at the twins heavily and in silence.

"Because," explained Anna-Rose, who thought the old lady didn't quite
follow, "nobody ever is. So that it must be difficult not to remember
it."

Mr. Ridding too was silent, but that was because of his wife. It was
quite untrue to say that he forgot, seeing that she was constantly
reminding him. "Old stranger," he thought resentfully, as he carefully
arranged a cushion behind her back. He didn't like her back. Why should
he have to pay bills for putting expensive clothes on it? He didn't want
to. It was all a dreadful mistake.

"You're the Twinkler girls," said the old lady abruptly.

They made polite gestures of agreement.

The knitting lady knitted vigorously, sitting up very straight and
saying nothing, with a look on her face of disclaiming every
responsibility.

"Where does your family come from?" was the next question.

This was unexpected. The twins had no desire to talk of Pomerania. They
hadn't wanted to talk about Pomerania once since the war began; and they
felt very distinctly in their bones that America, though she was a
neutral, didn't like Germany any more than the belligerents did. It had
been their intention to arrange together the line they would take if
asked questions of this sort, but life had been so full and so exciting
since their arrival that they had forgotten to.

Anna-Rose found herself unable to say anything at all. Anna-Felicitas,
therefore, observing that Christopher was unnerved, plunged in.

"Our family," she said gently, "can hardly be said to come so much as to
have been."

The old lady thought this over, her lustreless eyes on Anna-Felicitas's
face.

The knitting lady clicked away very fast, content to leave the
management of the Twinklers in more competent hands.

"How's that?" asked the old lady, finally deciding that she hadn't
understood.

"It's extinct," said Anna-Felicitas. "Except us. That is, in the direct
line."

The old lady was a little impressed by this, direct lines not being so
numerous or so clear in America as in some other countries.

"You mean you two are the only Twinklers left?" she asked.

"The only ones left that matter," said Anna-Felicitas. "There are
branches of Twinklers still existing, I believe, but they're so
unimportant that we don't know them."

"Mere twigs," said Anna-Rose, recovering her nerves on seeing
Anna-Felicitas handle the