“I put it on,” said Nan, “because I couldn’t help myself.  I wanted to change my travelling gown, and when I opened my suit-case this is all there was in it, except some combs and brushes and bottles.”

“Whew!” said Bob.  “When I picked up that suit-case I wasn’t quite sure I had the right one.  You know I went back for it after we left the train at New Brunswick, and you said it was the only one in the world with a handle on the end.”

“I thought it was,” said Nan, “but it seems somebody else was clever enough to have an end-handle too, and she was a trained nurse, apparently.”

“Many of the new suit-cases have handles on the end,” said Mr. Fairfield, “though not common as yet I have seen a number of them.  But just imagine how the nurse feels who is obliged to wear your dinner gown instead of her uniform.”

“I hope she won’t spoil it,” exclaimed Bumble.  “It was that lovely light blue thing, one of the prettiest frocks you own.”

“I can imagine her now,” said Bob:  “she is probably bathing the brow of a sleepless patient, and the lace ruffles and turquoise bugles are helping along a lot.  In fact, I think she’s looking rather nice going around a sick-room in that blue bombazine.”

“It isn’t bombazine, Bob,” said his sister; “it’s beautiful, lovely light-blue chiffon.”

“Well, beautiful, lovely light-blue chiffon, then; but anyway, I’m sure the nurse is glad of a chance to wear it instead of her own plain clothes.”

“But her own plain clothes are not at all unpicturesque, and are very becoming to Miss Allen,” said Mr. Fairfield.  “But haven’t your trunks come?” he added, as they all went out to dinner.

“No,” said Bob; “Mr. Harper and I investigated the baggage-room, but they weren’t there.”

“Oh, call him Kenneth,” said Patty.  “You boys are too young for such formality.”

“I may be,” said Bob, “but he isn’t.  He’s a college man.”

“He’s a college boy,” said Patty; “he’s only nineteen, and you’re sixteen yourself.”

“Going on seventeen,” said Bob proudly, “and so is Bumble.”

“Twins often are the same age,” observed Mr. Fairfield, “and after a few years, Bob, you’ll have to be careful how you announce your own age, because it will reveal your sister’s.”

“Pooh!  I don’t care,” said Bumble.  “I’d just as lieve people would know how old I am.  Nan is twenty-two, and she doesn’t care who knows it.”

“You look about fifty in those ridiculous clothes,” said Patty.

“Do I?” said Nan, quite unconcernedly.  “I don’t mind that a bit, but I don’t think I can keep them at this stage of whiteness for many days.  Can anything be done to coax our trunks this way?”

“We might do some telephoning after dinner,” said Mr. Fairfield.  “What is the situation up to the present time?”

“Why, you see it was this way,” said Bumble.  “When the carriage came to take us to the station, the trunks weren’t quite ready, and mamma said for us to go on and she’d finish packing them and send them down in time to get that train or the next.”