John had been a footman nearly all of his adult life. He knew decorum and appropriate behavior for his situation. But when he glanced from one twin to another, he nearly ruined his reputation and self-respect forever with...a smile.

George dutifully dusted the marks from the expensive rug and retired to the kitchen to await a grave and disapproving Collins, wishing with all of his boyish heart that he had applied for the stables. Cleaning stalls had to be beneficial exercise, and surely one must become accustomed to the smells...eventually.

How will we ever tell you apart?" Collins asked, unable to resist the question."It's really quite simple, sir, once you know us," the spokesman assured him. "If he's talking, it's probably George, because Geoff is a quiet lad; if he's dancing a hornpipe, it's Geoff, because hornpipes make me dizzy.""You're George, then?""Yes, sir - the eldest.""By five minutes and fifty-five seconds," added Geoffrey, frowning."Five minutes and fifty-nine seconds," George corrected him calmly.

I can't tell you how terribly glad I am that you're going to be all right," George said, rather thickly. "I...I wouldn't know how to act without a twin.