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"No," he said, bestowing a long glance upon a stout nurse who was sitting on a bench near the drive and attending to twins in a perambulator. "No, we're not exactly dissenting parsons." "Ah, no!" She shook her head at him prettily. "You are wicked! You are up into all the mischief! Have I not hear what wild sums you risk at your game, that poker? You are famous for it."
Ross speaks of a woman of thirty-three who had been married fourteen years, had borne six children, and who on July 16, 1870, miscarried with twins of about five months' development.
Walter, in England, has even developed a machine that will show whether or not people will get along with each other, by analysis of their wave patterns." This was interesting, and Rick intended to find out more about it. But he began to wish Winston would come to the point. "I might add that the rhythmic brain patterns seem to be highly individual. No two are alike, even in identical twins.
All three had hurriedly and silently returned to the store from their futile chase. Bill offered no explanation, and his manner was so forbidding that even the intrepid Sandy had found no use for the questions he would so gladly have put. When they arrived, Scipio and Sunny, with the twins, had reached the place just before them.
And if he could have seen the smile that was on her lips, and the brightness that was in her eyes as she said it ...! It was a part, you see, of his Quixotic determination to make no claims, that he had not said a word, during his evening call, about the twins her babies! On the stroke of twelve his card was brought to her, and she went out into their bare little waiting-room to meet him.
And, the odd part of it was that, when everything was out of the locker, there was no hole to be seen, through which any of the gnawing animals might have slipped. "That's funny," said the twins' father, as he peered about. "I don't see how that rat got in here, or got out again." "Perhaps it wasn't a rat," suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. "What was it, then, that made the noise?" asked her husband.
She could not follow it as fast as she had reckoned. She balanced corners with a stout, indeterminate old gentleman who blocked her way and insisted on wavering in her direction each time she tried to dodge him. In her haste to make up for those precious lost seconds she upset a pair of twins belonging to an already overburdened mother. These she righted and went dashing on her way.
Even as she had mistaken the twins one for the other that very afternoon on rising from the gay baptismal lunch, so now again she saw Blaise in Denis, the pair of them so similar physically that in former times their parents had only been able to distinguish them by the different color of their eyes.
They could not part with her, and at last adopted her formally as their daughter, with the unwilling consent of John and Hannah. Yet they knew it was greatly "for Sylvy's betterment," as they phrased it; so at last they let her go. But when Dolly was a sturdy young woman of twenty-five the war-trumpet blew, and John and the twins heard it effectually.
"I don't seem to care so awfully much about poetry," abetted Judith, late Second-in-command. John looked sapient, and said, neutrally, that some poetry wasn't bad. The Twins, who were engaged in a silent but bitter struggle for the corpse of a white rabbit, recently born dead, made no comment.
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