Part 14 (1/2)

On the contrary, the man of the party looked so uneasy that it amounted to conscious illegality.

”Sisters?” said the chief official, stepping forward abruptly.

”Eh?” said Mr. Twist, pausing in the wiping of his forehead.

”These here--” said the official, jerking his thumb at the twins. ”They your sisters?”

”No,” said Mr. Twist stiffly.

”No,” said the twins, with one voice. ”Do you think we look like him?”

”Daughters?”

”No,” said Mr. Twist stiffly.

”No,” said the twins, with an ever greater vigour of repudiation. ”You _can't_ really think we look as much like him as all that?”

”Wife and sister-in-law?”

Then the Twinklers laughed. They laughed aloud, even Anna-Rose forgetting her cares for a moment. But they were flattered, because it was at least a proof that they looked thoroughly grown-up.

”Then if they ain't your sisters, and they ain't your daughters, and they ain't your wife and sister-in-law, p'raps you'll tell me--”

”These young ladies are not anything at all of mine, sir,” said Mr.

Twist vehemently.

”Don't you get sir-ing me, now,” said the official sticking out his jaw.

”This is a free country, and I'll have no darned cheek.”

”These young ladies in no way belong to me,” said Mr. Twist more patiently. ”They're my friends.”

”Oh. Friends, are they? Then p'raps you'll tell me what you're going to do with them next.”

”Do with them?” repeated Mr. Twist, as he stared with puckered brow at the twins. ”That's exactly what I wish I knew.”

The official scanned him from head to foot with triumphant contempt. He had got one of them, anyhow. He felt quite refreshed already. There had been a slump in sinners the past week, and he was as full of suppressed energy and as much tormented by it as an unexercised and overfed horse.

”Step this way,” he ordered curtly, waving Mr. Twist towards a wooden erection that was apparently an office. ”Oh, don't you worry about the girls,” he added, as his prey seemed disinclined to leave them.

But Mr. Twist did worry. He saw Ellis Island looming up behind the two figures that were looking on in an astonishment that had not yet had time to turn into dismay as he was marched off out of sight. ”I'll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder.

”That's as may be,” remarked the official grimly.

But he was back; if not in a minute in a little more than five minutes, still accompanied by the official, but an official magically changed into tameness and amiability, desirous to help, instructing his inferiors to carry Mr. Twist's and the young ladies' baggage to a taxi.

It was the teapot that had saved him,--that blessed teapot that was always protruding itself benevolently into his life. Mr. Twist had identified himself with it, and it had instantly saved him. In the shelter of his teapot Mr. Twist could go anywhere and do anything in America. Everybody had it. Everybody knew it. It was as pervasive of America as Ford's cars, but cosily, quietly pervasive. It was only less visible because it stayed at home. It was more like a wife than Ford's cars were. From a sinner caught red-handed, Mr. Twist, its amiable creator, leapt to the position of one who can do no wrong, for he had not only placed his teapot between himself and judgment but had accompanied his proofs of ident.i.ty by a suitable number of dollar bills, pressed inconspicuously into the official's conveniently placed hand.

The twins found themselves being treated with distinction. They were helped into the taxi by the official himself, and what was to happen to them next was left entirely to the decision and discretion of Mr.