“Run and tell Mr. Conlan to come for some tea, Billy,” Jean called presently. “The billy’s boiling.”
Tim Conlan was busy with the tree he had felled, piling the lighter pieces about the heavier, that all might burn quickly. He came in a few moments greeting them all cheerfully, with a special smile for Jo.
“You’re to bathe your eyes before you have tea, Mr. Conlan,” Mrs. Weston said. She produced a bottle of boracic lotion and an eye-bath, and showed him how to use it.
“Smarts like fury, but it makes ’em better, don’t it?” said the big man, with tears streaming down his cheeks, making curious patterns in the smoky dust that covered his face. “If you don’t mind, I’ll slip over to the river for a wash: I’ll feel more comfortable-like.”
“Have one cup of tea first, Mr. Conlan,” suggested Jo, handing him a brimming cup. “Then you can really have tea when you come back!”
“That’s too big a temptation for a thirsty man to resist, Miss Weston. My word, it’s good!” He drained it at a draught, and then went off with great strides to the river: returning presently much freshened.
“That’s more respectable—though I don’t think my old woman would think I looked respectable, if she could see me. Fire-fighting isn’t clean and tidy work,” he said, laughing. Suddenly his eye fell on Jean, who was proffering him a plate of scones: and then wavered to Jo, who was handing him tea. “Holy Ann!” he ejaculated. “I say, excuse me, but which of you is which?”
The twins, who were dressed alike in blue print frocks, chuckled.
“This is my sister!” they said, together, each indicating the other. The girls at school used to say that only twins could have made remarks with the absolute unanimity of Jean and Jo. It happened without any previous preparation, as though the two bodies were informed by one mind. Rex and Billy shouted with laughter.
“Well, I’ve met one of you—and good reason I have to know it,” said the bewildered man. “But I’m hanged if I can say which it is. Do _you_ know them apart, Mrs. Weston?”
“Well, nearly always,” said that lady. “I have my moments of uncertainty, but they seldom last long.”
“You’ve a right to brand them!” murmured Mr. Conlan, gazing distressfully.
“When they were smaller, I used to put different coloured ribbons on them,” Mrs. Weston said, laughing. “But I regret to say that they used to change the ribbons!”