was no one here but the mother, and she is as used to one end of
me as the other."

"So you are Gerald, and not Obadiah." said Mrs. Grahame. "I
congratulate you on the prettier name."

"Oh, Ferguson calls me Obadiah!" said Gerald, laughing again.
"He's the other of me, you know. Beg pardon! you don't know,
perhaps. We are twins, Ferguson and I."

"And Ferguson, my dear Mrs. Grahame," interposed Mrs.
Merryweather, "is my son Philip. Why these boys cannot call each
other by their rightful names is a family mystery; but so it is."

"Is your brother Fer--Philip like you?" asked Hildegarde, feeling
sure that he was not, as the other boy she had seen certainly had
not red hair.

"Not a bit!" replied Gerald, cheerfully. "No resemblance, I
believe. 'Beauty and the Beast' we call each other, too. Sometimes
I am Beauty, and more times I am the Beast; depends on which has
had his hair cut last."

"Or brushed," said Bell, glancing at the curly hair, which was
certainly in rather a wild condition.

"Oh, yes! beg pardon!" said Gerald, glancing ruefully at the
mirror, and running his hand through his curly mop.

"Beast this time, and no mistake. Grass rather long, you see, and