Notwithstanding their somewhat tragic departure the twins did not remain depressed; their spirits soon rose until they forgot their rÔles and addressed one another by the right name, much to the confusion of Thomas, who finally asked, "What ailed their tongues?"

"We forgot to change them this morning when we changed our clothes," answered audacious Gay.

"I believe ye, Miss," said Thomas, not at all realizing what he was saying.

At the railway station, however, their spirits fell again, and while Thomas bought their tickets Gay and May reviewed the situation.

"We must just brave it out," said Gay, gloomily, for the prospect was less pleasing than at first. "It wouldn't do to go home and disturb mother and she'd be sure to hear of it; then what would the doctor say?"

"If we were only going together!" sighed May. "But just fancy me at Cedarville and Uncle Harold thinking I'm a boy!"

"Fancy me," said Gay, "trying to be lady-like and the aunties not knowing that I'm a boy!"

"You can't be lady-like," laughed May.

"You can't be manly!" retorted Gay.

"Oh, I wish we were ourselves again!" May said.

"The train is ready, Master Gay," said Thomas, returning with the tickets and checks.

The real boy sprang to his feet, then sat down in confusion, remembering that he had no outward claim to the name of Gay.

"You may go, too, Miss May," said innocent Thomas; "your train leaves on the next track."

They went on board the train together and Gay chose a seat for May near the center of the car and back of one occupied by a boy of their age.

"He'll be company for you," whispered Gay.

Just then the conductor came along and Thomas spoke to him.

"This is Master Gay Walcott, who is going to Cedarville; will you be kind enough to look out for him, sir?"

"Certainly," replied the conductor, nodding pleasantly and walking away.

Both children returned the conductor's bow; the real Gay because he again forgot, and the mock Gay because she meant to be gentlemanly. It was a little mortifying, therefore, to have the real Gay whisper,—

"You mustn't forget to take off your hat, next time."

"I thought you might like a book, Master Gay," said Thomas, taking a bright-colored volume from his pocket.

Both children made a dive for it.

"Not so fast!" said Thomas. "This is Master Gay's."

The real Gay drew back with a giggle. He had made one more mistake.

"Thank you!" the mock Gay cried, giving Thomas a kiss, quite forgetting that a genuine boy never kisses when he is pleased!

"This is yours, Miss May," Thomas said, taking another book from his pocket.

"Thank you," said the mock May.

"What, no kiss for me, Miss?" said Thomas. Then the boy in the petticoats had to kiss Thomas, though it went against the grain to do it.

A low laugh attracted their attention. It fell from the widely parted lips of the boy in front of them; he was much amused at what was going on.

"You won't like him," said Gay promptly. "He's a frightful cad, I'm sure; it shows through on the outside. Let's get another seat."

But a brakeman shouted "All aboard" just then, and the change of seats was not made. The twins embraced hastily; May with tears in her eyes.

"Don't cry!" whispered mischievous Gay. "Boys never cry; remember that."

"Good bye, master Gay," said Thomas. "Be a gentleman."

"I'll try," answered the mock boy, dragging off the tarpaulin sailor hat right gallantly.

Then they were gone, and no sooner was the masquerader left to her fate than the boy in front commenced to make talk,—

"My name is Philip Guy Brentwood,—what is yours?"

"Miss Walcott," May answered with great dignity and entire forgetfulness of her part.

"'Miss' Walcott? That's a queer name for a boy! Where are you going, Miss Walcott?"

"To Cedarville."

"I may see you there, although I don't associate with everybody in Cedarville. My grandpapa, Dr. Brentwood, is the biggest man there."

"How big is he?" May asked, with eager interest. "As big as a dime museum man?"

"I don't mean that kind of big; he's the richest man in Cedarville."

"He is a cad," thought May.

"Are you going to board in Cedarville?" questioned inquisitive Philip Guy.

"I shall visit my uncle, General Haines."

"He's a queer duck. You won't have any fun there. Who were those people with you?"

"My brother and our man-servant, Thomas."

Philip laughed. "Your brother?" he repeated. "Is that pretty little girl your brother?"

"That's another mistake!" thought May. "It's getting worse and worse!"

"I say," Philip continued. "You kissed that man; you must be an awful sissy to kiss men."

Truly, it was getting "worse and worse!" A real boy would have known how to put an end to this inquisition, but May was merely an unsuccessful imitation of a boy. A desire to be courteous and a determination not to be bullied by Philip strove for ascendency in May's mind; the latter undoubtedly would have won had not the conductor passed along just then.

"Conductor!" cried May. "Will you take me into another car, please?"

"Certainly, Master Walcott," the conductor replied.

Then, much to Philip's astonishment, May followed the conductor into the next car. Neither child scored a victory, but May was not beaten, thanks to the girl's quick brain under the boy's hat.

The conductor proved a more agreeable traveling companion than Philip, and the ride to Cedarville, which was not long, was a pleasant one.

General Haines' man-servant was awaiting Gay's arrival, and as they were about to drive away from the station, Philip came up to the carriage.

"You ran away because you were afraid!" he cried, mockingly.

"Yes," May replied, "I was 'afraid' that I should have to talk to you."

Philip did not appear to be offended at this plain speaking. "You're not such a slow sort, after all," said he, patronizingly.

"Thank you."

Philip asked another question:

"Is Miss—your name—the short for Mississippi?

"No, the short for Mischief!" retorted May, by way of a parting shot.

No one was visible when they reached the General's, but the man told May to "go in." The outside door was open and a tall man, dressed in what May thought to be livery, was in the hall. Toward this person she advanced boldly, despite his forbidding aspect.

"Butler," said May, "will you tell General Haines that Ma—Gay Walcott is here?"

"Butler!" thundered the General, for of course it was he. "You young scapegrace, what do you mean by such impudence?"

"It was a mistake. I beg your pardon, sir."

This apology, made in May's most deferential manner, did not appease the General's wrath. He immediately detected a fresh cause for offense.

"Where is your hat?" he demanded, with a fierce frown. "Bless me! A Walcott to keep on his hat in the presence of a superior!"

May pulled off the offending tarpaulin and made a prim little bow, but the General ignored this tardy evidence of breeding and walked away, leaving his abashed young visitor alone in the great oak hall.