est in dress, be
expected to be? It is, therefore, needless to say that the twin
daughters of David, namely, Molly and Polly Dubbs, being all that is
here set down, should have been seen in all their kindliness to be truly
known, and no other form of introduction would do them full justice.

Molly was the counterpart of Polly in all respects save height. She was
a very little taller than Polly, and a fortunate thing it had been for
all concerned that she was so. Else, consider the vexation of the
measles and other diseases essential to youth. Why, in their quandary
which to begin on, they almost missed the twins altogether as it was.
Consider the complexity of young lovers who should pour into the ears of
Polly passionate adjectives intended solely to captivate the heart of
Molly; and, most important of all, consider the conflict of choice which
would have disquieted the soul of Mr. Jacob Tripple and at last driven
him to the alternatives of suicide or bigamy.

But all these dangers had been averted by the provisions of Nature, and
the twins, who had supped, for economic reasons, earlier in the evening,
sat beaming on while David and little Dolly heartily devoured the
supper.

David, looking up now for the first time, in the interval of a mouthful
swallowed and a mouthful threatened, espied a bowery wreath of holly
that hung around a picture of General Washington in the act of crossing
a dark, green river Delaware in a court dress of red and breeches of
yellow, surrounded on all sides by ice and officers in rainbow uniforms,
and, as this was the only adornment of a rather bare room, it is no
wonder it caught his eye.

"Why, who's been a-brightening up the gen'ral so Christmas-like?" he
exclaimed.

"We did, father! Leastwise it was Polly's present," said Molly.

"And who may be a-sending presents to Polly now?" asked David, with a
twinkle in his eye that had seen better days but none kindlier. "It
wasn't young Cuffy over at the baker's, nor Jake Tripple, now, was it?"

He looked at Polly for an answer, whereat she stretched her arm along
the back of the settee and let fall her hand on Molly's shoulder with a
punch which was intended as punishment for the giggles her sister
struggled to confine in her mouth with both hands; but which, in spite
of her, bubbled over and attacked David, and then, with a blush, Polly
muttered,--

"It wasn't young Cuffy at all, and I hate his loafy, little face, and I
hate----"

"N