protested.

"I hed my breakfast at five-thirty. I don't eat agin till noon."

"Oh, Miss Jenkins! You have no artistic temperament or you would not
cling to ironclad rules."

"My name's Amarilly," she answered shortly. "I ain't old enough to be
'missed' yet."

"I beg your pardon, Amarilly. You seem any age," he replied, sitting
down to his breakfast, "You are not too old, then, for me to ask what
your age is--in years?"

"I jest got into my teens."

"Thirteen. And I am ten years older. When is your birthday?"

"It's ben. It was the fust of June."

"Why, Amarilly," jumping up and holding out his hand, "we are twins!
That is my birthday."

"And you are twenty-three."

"Right you are. That is my age at the present moment. Last night I was
far older, and to-morrow, mayhap, I'll be years younger."

"Be you a Christian Science?" she asked doubtfully.