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"So like your father, dear boy; how's your dear mother?"

And in spite of his inward fury of resistance, she kissed him. For she was but a woman of forty-two.

"Quite well, thank you," said Jack: though considering he had been at sea for six weeks, he knew as little about his mother's health as did Aunt Matilda herself.

"Did y' blow y' candle out?" asked Mr. George.

"No he didn't," answered the tawny girl. "I'll go and do it."

And she flashed away upstairs like a panther.

"I suppose the twins introduced themselves," said Mr. George.

"No they didn't," said the other one.

"Only christened you Bow.—You'll be somebody or other's beau before very long, I'll warrant.—This is Grace, Grace Ellis, you know, where you're going to live. And her sister who's gone upstairs to blow your candle out, is Monica.—Can't be too careful of fire in these dry places.—Most folks say they can't tell 'em apart, but I call it nonsense."

"Ancien, beau, bon, cher, adjectives which precede," said the one called Monica, jerking herself into the room, after blowing out the candle.