“We used to have,” said Anna-Felicitas flushing, afraid that her darling mother was going to be asked about.

The old gentleman gave a sudden chuckle.  “Why yes,” he said, forgetting his wife’s presence for an instant, “I guess you had them once, or I don’t see how—­”

“Albert,” said his wife.

“We are the sole surviving examples of the direct line of Twinklers,” said Anna-Rose, now quite herself and ready to give Columbus a hand.  “There’s just us.  And we—­” she paused a moment, and then plunged—­“we come from England.”

“Do you?” said the old lady.  “Now I shouldn’t have said that.  I can’t say just why, but I shouldn’t.  Should you, Miss Heap?”

“I shouldn’t say a good many things, Mrs. Ridding,” said Miss Heap enigmatically, her needles flying.

“It’s because we’ve been abroad a great deal with our parents, I expect,” said Anna-Rose rather quickly.  “I daresay it has left its mark on us.”

“Everything leaves its mark on one,” observed Anna-Felicitas pleasantly.

“Ah,” said the old lady.  “I know what it is now.  It’s the foreign r.  You’ve picked it up.  Haven’t they, Miss Heap.”

“I shouldn’t like to say what they haven’t picked up, Mrs. Ridding,” said Miss Heap, again enigmatically.

“I’m afraid we have,” said Anna-Rose, turning red.  “We’ve been told that before.  It seems to stick, once one has picked it up.”

And the old gentleman muttered that everything stuck once one had picked it up, and looked resentfully at his wife.

She moved her slow eyes round, and let them rest on him a moment.

“Albert, if you talk so much you won’t be able to sleep to-night,” she said.  “I can’t get Mr. Ridding to remember we’ve got to be careful at our age,” she added to the knitting lady.

“You seem to be bothered by your memory,” said Anna-Rose politely, addressing the old gentleman “Have you ever tried making notes on little bits of paper of the things you have to remember?  I think you would probably be all right then.  Uncle Arthur used to do that.  Or rather he made Aunt Alice do it for him, and put them where he would see them.”

“Uncle Arthur,” explained Anna-Felicitas to the old lady, “is an uncle of ours.  The one,” she said turning to the old gentleman, “we were just telling you about, who so unfortunately insisted on marrying our aunt.  Uncle, that is, by courtesy,” she added, turning to the old lady, “not by blood.”

The old lady’s eyes moved from one twin to the other as each one spoke, but she said nothing.

“But Aunt Alice,” said Anna-Rose, “is our genuine aunt.  Well, I was going to tell you,” she continued briskly, addressing the old gentleman.  “There used to be things Uncle Arthur had to do every day and every week, but still he had to be reminded of them each time, and Aunt Alice had a whole set of the regular ones written out on bits of cardboard, and brought them out in turn.  The Monday morning one was:  Wind the Clock, and the Sunday morning one was:  Take your Hot Bath, and the Saturday evening one was:  Remember your Pill.  And there was one brought in regularly every morning with his shaving water and stuck in his looking-glass:  Put on your Abdominable Belt.”