There was no mistaking the identity of the twins--Wilbur, who preferred going barefoot even on Sunday, and Merle, who sang beautifully in church and knew how to hold his hat nicely in his hand. Nevertheless, the Whipples, the great family of the town, did make a mistake in their choice when they adopted one of them. As interesting as the boys is their father, who discourses ont he life force and has a habit of boarding the six-fifty-eight on the road to somewhere. A delightful and entertaining story, containing some shrewd observations of the American type.
ded but to approximate a vacuum at the upper end of the candy, and the mighty and mysterious laws of atmospheric pressure completed the benign process.
It should be said for the twins that they were not social climbers. In their instant infatuation for this novel device they quite lost the thrill that should have been theirs from the higher aspects of the encounter. They were not impressed at meeting a Whipple on terms of seeming equality. They had eyes and desire solely for this delectable refection. Again and again the owner enveloped the top of the candy with prehensile lips; deep cavities appeared in her profusely spangled cheeks. Her eyes would close in an ecstasy of concentration. The twins stared, and at intervals were constrained to swallow.
"Gee, gosh!" muttered the Wilbur twin, helpless in the sight of so fierce a joy. His brother descended briskly from the fence.
"I bet that's good," he said, genially, and taking the half-filled pail from his brother's unresisting grasp he approached the n