my twin brother. He's my boy,
and a splendid one. You'll like Hu. Phebe is ten, and a terror. Nobody
ever knows what she'll do or say next. We call her Babe, but Allyn is
the real baby. He's cunning and funny, except when Babe teases him, and
then he rages like a little monster. That's all there are of us."

"And you live just over the fence?"

"Yes, we've lived there always, grown up with the place. People used to
call it McAlister's Folly; but they're more respectful now."

"McAlister?"

"Yes. I'm Dr. McAlister's daughter. Didn't you know it?"

"How should I? Remember, you came down out of a tree."

They both laughed.

"That's just like me," Theodora returned. "I never do the thing I ought.
Hu was coming over here in a few days; but Hope said I must wait to see
what papa said."

"What for?"

"Because you're a boy. She said girls don't go to see boys. I told her I
would wait, and here I am. I couldn't help it; but Hope will be
horrified. She never went to see a boy in her life; but then, she's used
to being horrified at me." Theodora appeared to be arguing out the
situation, much to her own frank amusement.

"But don't you see it's different in this case?" the boy suggested. "I'm
only about half a boy, just now. Besides, Miss Teddy, if you'll only
come over again, I promise to make up for it, as soon as I'm able to go
to see you."

Theodora's face brightened.

"Do you honestly want me to come again?"

"Of course. Else I shouldn't ask you. Come over the fence again. I shall
be up here, 'most every pleasant morning, and everybody else is busy,
fixing up the house. Come to-morrow," he urged.

"I will, if I can. Sometimes I'm busy."

"By the way," the boy added abruptly; "maybe I ought to tell you my
name. Probably you know it, though."

"No." Theodora looked up expectantly. She had an appetite for
high-sounding names, and she had decided that Valentine Mortimer would
just suit the present instance.

"Well, I'm Will Farrington; but everybody calls me Billy."

"Oh." Then Theodora unexpectedly began to laugh. "We ought to be good
friends," she said; "for our names are about equally imposing. Billy and
Teddy! Could anything be more prosaic? Good-by," she added, as she rose.
"Truly, I must go home now."

Billy held out his hand. It looked rather white and thin, as Theodora's
brown, strong fingers closed over it.

"Good-by," he said reluctantly. "Do come again whenever you can.
Remember there are fiv