"
"Take off the ribbon, then," said Phebe quietly; "_I_ know them."
"Why, ma'am, it's always done, where they're so like! And I'll
never be able to tell which is which; for they sleep and wake and
feed by the same clock. And you might mistake, after all, in
giving 'em names--"
"There is no oldest or youngest, John; they are two and yet one:
this is mine, and this is yours."
"I see no difference at all, Phebe," said John; "and how can we
divide them?"
"We will not divide," she answered; "I only meant it as a sign."
She smiled, for the first time in many days. He was glad of heart,
but did not understand her. "What shall we call them?" he
asked. "Elias and Reuben, after our fathers?"
"No, John; their names must be David and Jonathan."
And so they were called. And they grew, not less, but more alike,
in passing through the stages of babyhood. The ribbon of the older
one had been removed, and the nurse would have been distracted, but
for Phebe's almost miraculous instinct. The former comforted
herself with the hope that teething would bring a variation to the
two identical mouths; but no! they teethed as one child.
Pages:
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236