* * * * *

Horace met his sister expectantly.

“Did you ask her about the names, Ann?”

“Yes.  At first she was not inclined to either of our plans; but she has such a tender heart.”

“So she has,” responded Horace.

“She consented about the names; but said that she would send me word about the school.”

“And she didn’t give a ready consent?”

“No; but I’m almost sure that she will do it.  And now about Flea.  Did you talk with her?”

“Yes.  She consented to go to school, and said—­that I was the best old duffer in New York State.”

“Oh, Horace!  She must be taught not to use such language.  It’s dreadful!  Poor little dear!”

“It’ll take sometime to alter that,” replied Horace, shaking his head.  “They’ve had a fearful time, and she’s been used to talking that way always; she’s heard nothing else.  You can’t alter life’s habits in a day.”

“But Madame Duval won’t have her if she’s impudent,” said Ann.

“Oh, but she’s scarcely that,” expostulated Horace; “she doesn’t understand.  I’ll try to correct her sometime.”

But he felt the blood come up to his hair as he promised; for it seemed almost impossible to approach the girl with a matter so personal.  For the present, he dismissed the thought.

“What about the names, Ann?” he asked.

“As you wish, Dear; Fledra doesn’t care.”

From that moment, the boy, struggling with fever, and the gray-eyed girl, so like him, were called Floyd and Fledra Cronk.

* * * * *

One morning in January, the day before Flea was to begin her school work, she was passing through the hall that led to the front door.  Her face was grave with timidity; although for hours Ann had been trying to fortify the young spirit against the ordeal that was to confront her the following day.  Only once had Flea faltered a request that she be allowed to stay at home; but Horace had melted her objections without expelling her fear.  To Ann’s instructions concerning conduct she had listened with a heavy heart.

Everett Brimbecomb opened the front door as Flea approached it.  She stopped short before him, and he drew in a sharp, quick breath.  Flea was uncertain just what to do.  She knew that he was going to marry Ann, and was also aware that he hated her brother and herself.  Ann, however, had taught her to bow, and she now came forward with hesitant grace, and inclined her head slightly.  The beauty of Flea made Everett regret that his objections to the twins had been so strenuous; but he would immediately establish a friendship with her that would please both Ann and Horace.  He vowed that at the same time he would get some amusement out of it.

“Well!  You’ve blossomed into a girl at last,” he said banteringly, “and a mighty pretty one, too!  I swear I shouldn’t have known that you were one of those boys!”