“I dunno what you means by ‘pure apparatus,’” answered Caleb.  “There’s a flaw in the range, as you knaw; but ’tes so clane as scrubbin’ ’ll make et.”

And, indeed, when the evening arrived with the mellow twilight of July, and the Twins with a double knock, the arrangement of the table, as well as the smell of cooking which pervaded the front hall, did Caleb all credit.  The dining-room was bare alike of carpet and pictures, but the floor had been scoured until the boards glistened whitely; and two red ensigns, borrowed by Caleb from the British mercantile marine, served to hide certain defects in the wallpaper.

Here Mr. Fogo sat awaiting his guests; for the preparation of the drawing-room would have overtaxed Caleb’s resources.

“Miss Thomasina Dearlove, and Messrs. Peter and Paul ditto!”

Mr. Fogo arose with a flush on his wasted cheek, held Tamsin’s hand for a moment, and then, bending, kissed it with grave courtesy.  She had removed her hat and cloak in the passage, and now stood before him in a plain white frock—­short-waisted, and of antique make, perhaps, but little the worse for that.  She wore no ornament but a red rose on her bosom; and if, as I do not believe, a shade of apprehension had troubled Mr. Fogo, it would have taken flight as she stood before him, challenging his eyes.

But the Twins!

Like the Austrian army, they were “awfully arrayed.”  So stiff and shiny indeed was their apparel, and such mysterious sounds did the slightest movement draw from their linen, that the beholder grew presently as uneasy as the wearer.  Each wore a high stock and a collar that cut the ears.  The neck-cloth of Peter was crimson; of Paul, vivid amber.  The waistcoats of both bore floral devices in primary colours, and the hands of both were encased in gloves of white cotton.

Mr. Fogo took heart of grace and bade them welcome.

“’Tes a warm evenin’,” ventured Paul, rubbing a forefinger round the inside of his collar.

“Uncommon,” responded Peter, addressing his brother.

Whereupon, as if by preconcerted signal, they faced about and made for the two most distant chairs, on the edges of which they took an uneasy rest.  Peter had brought his hat into the room, and now, after gazing at it reproachfully for some moments, began to stow it away beneath him, doing violence to its brim with the air of one who does not count the cost.  He was relieved by Caleb, who bore it off with the pleasant remark—­

“Now, then, remember what the old leddy said to make her guests aisy, ‘I’m at home, an’ I wish you all were.’”

“Silence, Caleb!” said his master.  “I—­I think, as dinner is ready, we may as well be seated at once.  Will you take the head of the table?” he asked, turning to Tamsin.

She blushed faintly and moved to her place.  The Twins leapt up, performed a forced march, and took the table in flank from opposite quarters.  Mr. Fogo looked around.