the visitor, 'but--you have seen our little babies, the--the--
twins?' The friend's heart sinks within him as he answers, 'Oh,
yes--often.' 'Your talking of the Pyramids,' says Mr. Whiffler,
quite as a matter of course, 'reminds me of the twins. It's a very
extraordinary thing about those babies--what colour should you say
their eyes were?' 'Upon my word,' the friend stammers, 'I hardly
know how to answer'--the fact being, that except as the friend does
not remember to have heard of any departure from the ordinary
course of nature in the instance of these twins, they might have no
eyes at all for aught he has observed to the contrary. 'You
wouldn't say they were red, I suppose?' says Mr. Whiffler. The
friend hesitates, and rather thinks they are; but inferring from
the expression of Mr. Whiffler's face that red is not the colour,
smiles with some confidence, and says, 'No, no! very different from
that.' 'What should you say to blue?' says Mr. Whiffler. The
friend glances at him, and observing a different expression in his
face, ventures to say, 'I should say they WERE blue--a decided
blue.' 'To be sure!' cries Mr. Whiffler, triumphantly, 'I knew you
would! But what should you say if I was to tell you that the boy's
eyes are blue and the girl's hazel, eh?' 'Impossible!' exclaims
the friend, not at all knowing why it should be impossible. 'A
fact, notwithstanding,' cries Mr. Whiffler; 'and let me tell you,
Saunders, THAT'S not a common thing in twins, or a circumstance
that'll happen every day.'

In this dialogue Mrs. Whiffler, as being deeply responsible for the
twins, their charms and singularities, has taken no share; but she
now relates, in broken English, a witticism of little Dick's
bearing upon the subject just discussed, which delights Mr.
Whiffler beyond measure, and causes him to declare that he would