them thoroughly," added Nancy.

"And we won't do it again, mother," said Joan coaxingly.

"Really, we won't," said Nancy impressively.

"But what else will you do?" asked Mrs. Clinton. "You are getting too
big for these pranks. If your father were to hear of it, I am sure I
don't know what he would say."

She knew pretty well that he would have laughed boisterously, and told
her that he didn't want the children molly-coddled. Time enough for that
by and by when they grew up. And the twins probably knew this too, and
were not unduly alarmed at the implied threat. But there was a quality
in their mother's displeasure, rare as it was, which made them
apprehensive when one of their periodical outbursts had come to light.
They were not old enough to perceive that it was not aroused by such
feats as the one under discussion, which showed no moral delinquency,
but only a certain danger to life and limb, now past. But their
experience did tell them that misbehaviour which caused her displeasure
was not thus referred to their father, and with many embraces and
promises of amendment they procured future oblivion of their escapade.

"Well, I have done my duty," said the old starling, "and very unpleasant
it was to have to welcome you home with such a story, Mrs. Clinton, and
now it is all over and done with I will say and am glad to say that it
is the only _blot_. And that is what I said to both Joan and Nancy that
it was _such_ a pity to have spoilt everything at the last moment, for
otherwise two better behaved children it would have been impossible to
find anywhere."

At which Joan and Nancy both kissed the old starling warmly, and she
strained them to her flat but tender bosom and called them her precious
pets.

They went with Cicely into her bedroom while she "took off her things."
They betrayed an immense curiosity for every detail of her recent
experiences, particularly that crowning one of the Court Ball. She was
exalted in their eyes; she had long been grown up, but now she seemed
more grown up than ever, a whole cycle in advance of their active,
sexless juvenility.

"I don't know," said Joan doubtfully, fingering the new hat which Cicely
had taken off, "but I almost think it must be rather fun to wear pretty
things sometimes."

But Nancy, the younger by some minutes, rebuked that unwholesome
weakness. "What rot, Joan," she said indignantly. "Sis, we have made up
our minds to ask mother if we may wear serge kni