Evidently the exchange was something beneficent.  She decided to rejoice in it in silence, accept whatever it did, and refrain from asking questions.

“So I did.  Of course.  The exchange,” she said, after a little.

She gathered up the dollar bills and began packing them into her bag.  They wouldn’t all go in, and she had to put the rest into her pocket, for which also there were too many; but she refused Anna-Felicitas’s offer to put some of them in hers on the ground that sooner or later she would be sure to forget they weren’t her handkerchief and would blow her nose with them.

“Thank you very much for being so kind,” she said to Mr. Twist, as she stuffed her pocket full and tried by vigorous patting to get it to look inconspicuous.  “We’re never going to forget you, Anna-F. and me.  We’ll write to you often, and we’ll come and see you as often as you like.”

“Yes,” said Anna-Felicitas dreamily, as she watched the shore of Long Island sliding past.  “Of course you’ve got your relations, but relations soon pall, and you may be quite glad after a while of a little fresh blood.”

Mr. Twist thought this very likely, and agreed with several other things Anna-Felicitas, generalizing from Uncle Arthur, said about relations, again with that air of addressing nobody specially and meaning nothing in particular, while Anna-Rose wrestled with the obesity of her pocket.

“Whether you come to see me or not,” said Mr. Twist, whose misgivings as to the effect of the Twinklers on his mother grew rather than subsided, “I shall certainly come to see you.”

“Perhaps Mr. Sack won’t allow followers,” said Anna-Felicitas, her eyes far away.  “Uncle Arthur didn’t.  He wouldn’t let the maids have any, so they had to go out and do the following themselves.  We had a follower once, didn’t we, Anna-R.?” she continued her voice pensive and reminiscent.  “He was a friend of Uncle Arthur’s.  Quite old.  At least thirty or forty.  I shouldn’t have thought he could follow.  But he did.  And he used to come home to tea with Uncle Arthur and produce boxes of chocolate for us out of his pockets when Uncle Arthur wasn’t looking.  We ate them and felt perfectly well disposed toward him till one day he tried to kiss one of us—­I forget which.  And that, combined with the chocolates, revealed him in his true colours as a follower, and we told him they weren’t allowed in that house and urged him to go to some place where they were, or he would certainly be overtaken by Uncle Arthur’s vengeance, and we said how surprised we were, because he was so old and we didn’t know followers were as old as that ever.”

“It seemed a very shady thing,” said Anna-Rose, having subdued the swollenness of her pocket, “to eat his chocolates and then not want to kiss him, but we don’t hold with kissing, Anna-F. and me.  Still, we were full of his chocolates; there was no getting away from that.  So we talked it over after he had gone, and decided that next day when he came we’d tell him he might kiss one of us if he still wanted to, and we drew lots which it was to be, and it was me, and I filled myself to the brim with chocolates so as to feel grateful enough to bear it, but he didn’t come.”