"but the twins won't be separated. I've always been used to a
room to myself, but I suppose it can't be helped for the present."

She went downstairs and walked into the garden. The other members of
the family were already there, and Hartley, watching them from the
dining-room window, raised his brows in anguish as he noticed the
partiality of the twins for cut flowers.

It was, as he soon discovered, one of the smallest of the troubles that
followed on his sudden increase of family. His taste in easy-chairs met
with the warm approval of George Trimblett, and it was clear that
the latter regarded the tobacco-jar as common property. The twins'
belongings--a joint-stock affair--occupied the most unlikely places in
the house; and their quarrels were only exceeded in offensiveness by
their noisy and uncouth endearments afterwards. Painstaking but hopeless
attempts on the part of Miss Trimblett to "teach Rosa her place" added
to the general confusion.

By the end of a month the Trimblett children were in full possession.
George Trimblett, owing to the good offices of Mr. Vyner, senior, had
obtained a berth in a shipping firm, but the others spent the days at
home, the parties most concerned being unanimously of the opinion that
it would be absurd to go to school before Christmas. They spoke with
great fluency and good feeling of making a fresh start in the New Year.

"Interesting children," said Robert Vyner, who had dropped in one
afternoon on the pretext of seeing how they were getting on. "I wish
they were mine. I should be so proud of them."

Miss Hartley, who was about to offer him some tea, thought better of it,
and, leaning back in her chair, regarded him suspiciously.

"And, after all, what is a garden for?" pursued Mr. Vyner, as a steady
succession of thuds sounded outside, and Ted, hotly pursued by the
twins, appeared abruptly in the front garden and dribbled a football
across the flower-beds.

"They are spoiling the garden," said Joan, flushing. "Father is in
despair."

Mr. Vyner shook his head indulgently. "Girls will be girls," he said,
glancing through the window at Gertrude, who had thrown herself on the
ball and was being dragged round the garden by her heels. "I'm afraid
you spoil them, though."

Miss Hartley did not trouble to reply.

"I saw your eldest boy yesterday, at Marling's," continued the
industrious Mr. Vyner. "He is getting on pretty well; Marling tells me
he is steady and quiet. I sho