nd it. When she returned, they carefully wiped from the
painting its inch-thick coating of the dust of years, and again held
their candles to illumine the result.

For one long intense moment they stared at it. And then, simultaneously,
they broke into a peal of hysterical giggles.

CHAPTER VII

GOLIATH MAKES ANOTHER DISCOVERY

"Oh, Cynthia!" gasped Joy at length, "isn't it too comical! We're just
as far from it all as ever!" And they both fell to chuckling again.

They were certainly no nearer the solution of their problem. For, facing
the room once more, the mysterious picture looked forth--the portrait of
_two babies_! They were plump, placid babies, aged probably about two or
three years, and they appeared precisely alike. It took no great stretch
of imagination to conjecture what they were--twins--and evidently
brother and sister, for one youngster's dress, being a trifle severe in
style, indicated that it was doubtless a boy. These two cherubic infants
had both big brown eyes, fat red cheeks, and adorable, fluffy golden
curls. They were pictured as sitting, hand in hand, on a green bank
under a huge spreading tree and gazing solemnly toward a distant church
steeple.

"The poor little things!" cried Cynthia. "Think of them having been
turned to the wall all these years! Now what was the sense of it,--two
innocent babies like that!" But Joyce had not been listening. All at
once she put down her candle on the table and faced her companion.

"I've got it!" she announced. "It came to me all of a sudden. Of course
those babies are twins, brother and sister. Any one can tell that! Well,
don't you see, one of them--the girl--was our Lovely Lady. The other was
her twin brother. It's all as clear as day! The twin brother did
something she didn't like, and she turned his picture to the wall. Hers
happened to be in the same frame too, but she evidently didn't care
about that. Now what have you to say, Cynthia Sprague?"

"You must be right," admitted Cynthia. "I thought we were 'stumped'
again when I first saw that picture, but it's been of some use, after
all. Do you suppose the miniature was a copy of the same thing?"

"It may have been, or perhaps it was just the brother alone when he was
older. We can't tell about that." All this while Cynthia had been
standing, candle in one hand and dust-cloth in the other. At that point
she put the candlestick on the table and stood gazing intently at the
dust-cloth. P