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Page 10
The Merryweathers laughed merrily, and Mrs. Merryweather was about
to speak, when a voice was heard in the hall, chanting in a
singular, nasal key,--
"Dropsy dropped a book,
And she's going to be shook!
Dropsy dropped a volume,
Which makes her very solume!"
The door was pushed open, and the handsome red-haired boy entered,
walking on his hands, holding aloft between his feet the missing
"Soul's Conflict."
"My son Gerald," said Mrs. Merryweather, with a wicked smile.
"Gerald, my love, Mrs. and Miss Grahame."
If Hildegarde was crimson (and she undoubtedly was), Gerald
Merryweather was brilliant scarlet when he rose to his feet and
saluted the strangers; but he was also atwinkle with laughter, the
whole lithe, graceful body of him seeming to radiate fun. One
glance at Bell, another at Hildegarde, and the whole party broke
into peal on peal of merriment.
"How do you do?" said Scarlet to Crimson, holding out a strong
brown hand, and gripping hers cordially. "Awfully glad! Please
excuse me, Mrs. Grahame, for coming in like that. I thought there
was no one here but the mother, and she is as used to one end of
me as the other."
"So you are Gerald, and not Obadiah." said Mrs. Grahame. "I
congratulate you on the prettier name."
"Oh, Ferguson calls me Obadiah!" said Gerald, laughing again.
"He's the other of me, you know. Beg pardon! you don't know,
perhaps. We are twins, Ferguson and I."
"And Ferguson, my dear Mrs. Grahame," interposed Mrs.
Merryweather, "is my son Philip. Why these boys cannot call each
other by their rightful names is a family mystery; but so it is."
"Is your brother Fer--Philip like you?" asked Hildegarde, feeling
sure that he was not, as the other boy she had seen certainly had
not red hair.
"Not a bit!" replied Gerald, cheerfully. "No resemblance, I
believe. 'Beauty and the Beast' we call each other, too. Sometimes
I am Beauty, and more times I am the Beast; depends on which has
had his hair cut last."
"Or brushed," said Bell, glancing at the curly hair, which was
certainly in rather a wild condition.
"Oh, yes! beg pardon!" said Gerald, glancing ruefully at the
mirror, and running his hand through his curly mop.
"Beast this time, and no mistake. Grass rather long, you see, and
tore my locks of gold. Happy thought! Desiring to tear your hair
in sorrow, walk on hands through long grass; effect admirable.
Wonder Hamlet never tried it!"
"Hamlet's hair was black," said Toots, seriously.
"And therefore he could not walk on his hands," said Gerald. "I
see! Dropsy, you are a genius; that's the trouble with you."
A long gray leg appeared at the open window, and after waving
wildly for a moment, disappeared suddenly.
"Ferguson!" said Gerald, turning to Hildegarde. "His mountain way!
Becoming aware of your presence, he has retired, to reverse legs,
and will shortly reappear, fondly hoping that you did not see him
before."
Sure enough, in a few moments another tall boy entered, looking
preternaturally grave, with his hair scrupulously smooth.
"Been upstairs, you see," said the irrepressible Gerald, "and
slicked himself all up. Quite the Beauty, Fergs."
"Gerald, do be quiet!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "This is Philip, my
other twin boy, Mrs. Grahame."
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