It was not long after they had returned to the ballroom until the twins found themselves in the center of a group of laughing girls.

“It would be a regular game,” Gladys Manners announced.

“What would?” Phyllis demanded.

“Guessing which was which,” Gladys told her.

“Oh, let’s try it,” half-a-dozen voices exclaimed.

They put the twins side by side, and then the girls took turns guessing. Between turns the twins would change places, or remain where they were.

“Oh, this is too much!” Prue exclaimed, after she had stared at them for a full minute. “I’m dizzy with looking from one to the other of you, but I’m blessed if I know which one I sat next to at dinner.”

“This is going to be too complicated. I vote that we do something about it.” Ann Lourie spoke with a Southern intonation, but it was different from Miss Hull’s speech and Poppy’s lazy drawl. She came from New Orleans, which accounted for the difference.

“What are you all doing?” Poppy, with her arm around Gwen’s broad shoulders, joined them.

“We’re playing a new game,” Gladys announced. “It’s called ‘Guessing the Twins.’”

“You’re it, Poppy,” Prue laughed. “See if you can do it.”

Poppy tried. The twins looked up at her provokingly. Their soft brown hair waved back from their forehead with almost identical curls. Their heads, exactly the same oval shape, were pressed close together. Their red lips each smiled a twisted smile, and their golden-brown eyes, so like the color of autumn leaves, danced mischievously.

“I declare to goodness there isn’t anybody on earth that can tell you two apart,” Poppy laughed.

“Oh, but there are!” Phyllis told them. “Sally never gets us mixed up.”

“Oh, that’s easy to understand,” Gwen remarked. “Sally just asks Aunt Jane’s poll-parrot which is which, and that bird, you know, can tell her anything.”

“Just the same, it’s going to be complicating,” Ann repeated, “and I suggest that we make one of them wear something to distinguish her from the other. It need only be something tiny, just big enough for our select group,” her eyes travelled from Prue to Gladys and to Poppy and Gwen.

“That’s a mighty good idea of yours, Ann, and as representatives of the senior class”—Gwen was captain of sports—“we endorse it.”

“The question is, what shall it be?” Prue inquired.

“I know.” Gladys unpinned a tiny little gold pin that she was wearing. It was the shape of the crescent moon, and was no bigger than a good sized pea.

“It’s an old class pin I had years ago when I went to day school. I don’t know what possessed me to put it on yesterday when I left home——”

“I do,” Prue interrupted. “You had a snapper off, and you thought that would show less than an ordinary pin.”

“Untidy little wretch you are,” Ann agreed.

The rest looked at Gladys’ cuff and, sure enough, there was a snapper off. Gladys, under their laughing scrutiny, was no whit embarrassed.

“Course I’m untidy,” she agreed; “that’s because I’m an artist, and it’s being done this year. You couldn’t expect me to be as neat as Prue, the immaculate.”

Prue laughed good-naturedly. “Meaning I am not an artist,” she remarked. “Well, nobody will dispute that with you, least of all Miss Remsted.”

The rest of the old girls laughed as at some well known joke and the twins smiled in sympathy.

“Prue tried to have a crush on Miss Remsted last year,” Poppy explained. “We don’t encourage them—crushes, I mean—at Hilltop, but Prue is stubborn—comes from New England, you know, where the word was coined—and she would have a crush in spite of the fact that she had been here two years and knew that we would have to take drastic steps to cure her.”

“You did and I’m cured; can’t we spare them the harrowing details?” Prue protested.

“No; it may be a lesson they’ll need, and besides, Poppy loves to point a moral,” Gwen remarked. “Go on, Poppy; let’s hear the awful end.”

“It’s coming; just you listen.” Poppy directed her story to the twins. “Prue suddenly decided, about the middle of the term, that she was a budding young artist and that all she needed was a little special instruction, so she went to Miss Hull and got permission to take special art. Then she went to Miss Remsted——.” Poppy paused to chuckle in anticipation.

“Miss Remsted told her to bring her her best sketch,” she continued. “Now, Prue had never made a sketch in her life, but she reckoned it would be easy enough.”

“Prue’s a futurist,” Gwen interrupted.

“So she about made up her mind to draw an animal. What made you choose something that was living, Prue? I never did understand.”

“Then you never will, because I’m not going to tell you,” Prue replied airily.

“Oh, but I am,” Ann smiled reminiscently. “The day before she did the sketch she came to me and asked me if a great many artists hadn’t made their start by drawing pictures of animals. I thought for a minute and then——”

“To show off the knowledge that you haven’t got”—Gladys took up the story—“you casually mentioned Rosa Bonheur, and Prue went straight to her desk and——” She turned to Poppy.

“Drew—I mean sketched—the gardener’s watch dog,” Poppy went on. “He was a nice dog, but not very sketchable. You all know how dogs will jump ’round, so you can’t blame Prue for what happened. She finished the sketch and took it to Miss Remsted.”

“I did not, I left it for her in the studio,” Prue corrected.

“Left it; excuse me, I stand corrected,” Poppy continued. “History does not repeat just what Miss Remsted said or did, but when Prue went to her desk next morning she found her dog with this little note pinned to his tail—not literally, you understand, but figuratively: ‘Prue, dear; it’s a very nice little rabbit, but it’s a pity he has the mumps.’”

The laugh that followed was led by Prue. The twins exchanged glances. They were both thinking how very differently some of the girls at Miss Harding’s would have taken such teasing.

Phyllis always liked and was liked by girls, so she gave the matter less consideration than Janet. Janet’s heart glowed; here were the kinds of girls that she had dreamed about. Their teasing stopped before it became unkind. Their laughter held no hint of derision; and, above all, she was conscious of the feeling of fellowship and understanding that existed between them. She found herself wishing that she could be the brunt of their teasing, for somehow, she felt that in that way only could she be admitted to the happy sisterhood.

“There’s a strong bond between sister classes at Hilltop,” Gladys was explaining. “That’s the reason that Gwen and Poppy prefer to talk to us, who are only Sophomores, instead of joining that group of important-looking Juniors over there.” She pointed to half-a-dozen girls a little older than the twins who were laughing and joking at the other side of the room.

“They’ll adopt the Freshmen and make them behave,” Prue exclaimed.

“While it is the Senior’s painful duty to see that our class keeps out of mischief,” Gladys laughed.

The twins smiled. They liked the way these girls finished each other’s sentences and interrupted each other without giving and taking offence.

Ann looked up at the clock—a grandfather one—which stood in the corner of the big room and chimed out the hours drowsily.

“’Most time for Sally to come,” she announced. “Let’s go and watch for her.”