Family In The Making. Jo Brown Ann

always wore a feather or a bit of lace in the same light purple shade as her name. Miss Ivy Winwood never was seen unless she had something dark green with her.

      They smiled broadly as they walked to where Arthur was pushing himself to his feet. He hid his grimace at the pain.

      “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said as Carrie signaled to a footman to bring two more chairs.

      “For you, my lord,” said Miss Hyacinth, the older of the sisters by what was reported to be ten minutes.

      Miss Ivy held out the plate topped by a pile of sugary treats. “You have always been partial to our almond macaroons.”

      He took one, knowing she would not move the plate until he did. Everyone in Porthlowen was aware of how kind the twin sisters were and how stubborn.

      “It is the least we could do for a man who risked himself to save a dear little boy,” Miss Hyacinth said.

      “Such a brave and noble act.” Miss Ivy refused to let her sister have the last word on any topic.

      “Do sit,” he said, motioning toward the chairs.

      “We will,” Miss Hyacinth replied, “so you will do the same and rest your injured leg.”

      “And you must not come to your feet when we leave.” Miss Ivy gave him a look that could have halted a charging bull.

      Arthur nodded and wondered if the tales he had heard were true. It was whispered in the village that, when the French pirates had tried to break into the Winwood cottage, they were met with cast-iron pans and brooms. Though he doubted the truth of the tale, for his family had learned firsthand how vicious the pirates were, he also knew no damage had been done to the women’s home.

      Miss Hyacinth was not satisfied. “Promise us that you will set your always gracious manners aside this once.”

      “You must promise us.”

      “I promise you, ladies,” he said.

      “Excellent.”

      “Most excellent.”

      Arthur resisted the yearning to shake his head. Listening to the sisters was like watching a game of battledore and shuttlecock, back and forth the words went. Always quick, always insightful. Or so Carrie assured him. He found the two women amusing in their eccentric ways, though no one could question the warmth of their generous hearts.

      He ate the macaroon and listened to Carrie talk with them. The confection was delicious, and he reached for a second one, which set off another round of comments about how nice it was to see a man enjoy sweets as he did.

      The elderly twins paused when childish shouts came from past the far edge of the terrace. The youngsters came bouncing around the corner. Toby, who lived at the parsonage, was among them. He and Bertie were shoving each other playfully as they chased the other children. Giggles and shouts of excitement rose in the afternoon air.

      “Oh, there are the dear babes,” Miss Hyacinth said, jumping to her feet.

      “Aren’t they adorable?” Miss Ivy added.

      “Utterly adorable.”

      “Utterly.”

      Arthur guessed they could go on and on forever without a break, but his ears could use a respite. Hoping they did not consider him rude, he called out, “Miss Oliver, we are over here.” He could not see her around the corner of the terrace; yet he had no doubt she was nearby. She seldom allowed the children out of her sight.

      As if on cue, she ran into the clump of youngsters. She picked up Gil and swung him around. The moment she set him on the ground, little arms reached up as each child begged for a turn.