f him to load the poor things up with a secret
like that, which would be always flying to their tongues' ends every
time they heard any one speak of the strangers as twins, and would
become harder and harder to hang on to with every recurrence of the
temptation to tell it, while the torture of retaining it would increase
with every new strain that was applied; but he never thought of that,
and probably would not have worried much about it if he had.

A visitor was announced--some one to see the twins. They withdrew to
the parlor, and the two old ladies began to discuss with interest the
strange things which they had been listening to. When they had finished
the matter to their satisfaction, and Aunt Betsy rose to go, she stopped
to ask a question:

"How does things come on between Roweny and Tom Driscoll?"

"Well, about the same. He writes tolerable often, and she answers
tolerable seldom."

"Where is he?"

"In St. Louis, I believe, though he's such a gadabout that a body can't
be very certain of him, I reckon."

"Don't Roweny know?"

"Oh, yes, like enough. I haven't asked her lately."

"Do you know how him and the judge are getting along now?"

"First rate, I believe. Mrs. Pratt says so; and being right in the
house, and sister to the one and aunt to t'other, of course she ought to
know. She says the judge is real fond of him when he's away; but frets
when he's around and is vexed with his ways, and not sorry to have him
go again. He has been gone three weeks this time--a pleasant thing for
both of them, I reckon."

"Tom's rather harum-scarum, but there ain't anything bad in him, I
guess."

"Oh, no, he's just young, that's all. Still, twenty-three is old, in
one way. A young man ought to be earning his living by that time. If Tom
were doing that, or was even trying to do it, the judge would be a heap
better satisfied with him. Tom's always going to begin, but somehow he
can't seem to find just the opening he likes."

"Well, now, it's partly the judge's own fault. Promising the boy his
property wasn't the way to set him to earning a fortune of his own. But
what do you think--is Roweny beginning to lean any toward him, or ain't
she?"

Aunt Patsy had a secret in her bosom; she wanted to keep it there, but
nature was too strong for her. She drew Aunt Betsy aside, and said in
her most confidential and mysterious manner:

"Don't you breathe a syllable to a soul--I'm going to tell you
something. In my opini