"Did you order the monogram put on the automobile?"
"Sure. I told 'em to put 'The Yellow Peril' on each door and on the back, and the initials, 'C. T.' above it everywhere." The twins had adopted a common monogram, signifying "Crosby Twins." It adorned their stationery and their seal, but, as they seldom wrote letters, it had not been of much use.
"We might have the initials put on the dogs' collars, too," Juliet suggested.
"Sure," assented Romeo, cordially. "Then, if we lose any of 'em on the road, we can identify 'em when they're found, and get 'em back."
Juliet saw that she had made a mistake and hoped Romeo would forget about it, but vainly, for he lounged over and made a memorandum on the slate that hung in the hall.
"I wonder," continued Romeo, thoughtfully, "if the yard is big enough to train 'em in. We ought not to go out on the road until the thirtieth."
"That's easy enough," Juliet answered, with a superior air.
"How'd you go about it?" he demanded.
"If they were my dogs and I wanted 'em to follow me in an automobile, I'd let 'em fast for a day or two and fill the back seat of the machine with raw meat. They'd follow quick enough and be good and lively about it, too. They wouldn't need to be trained."
"Jule," said Romeo, solemnly, "will you please forgive me for calling you a 'sissy girl'?"
"Sure!" Juliet had learned long before she was twenty, that "forgive me," from a man's lips, indicates the uttermost depths of abasement and devotion.
"The fasting won't hurt 'em," Romeo continued, eager to change the subject. "They're all in good condition now."
"Except the last one. You can see some of his ribs yet."
"You can't by June."
"No, I guess not. Say, Romie, oughtn't she to be coming to see us by now?"
"Who?"
"Isabel--what's-her-name. You know, up at Bernard's."
Happy-hearted comrade though she was, Juliet had a secret longing for feminine association, at rare intervals. It would be pleasant she thought, to go skating sometimes with a girl or two instead of the usual crowd of boys. She hated herself fiercely for disloyalty, but the idea recurred persistently.
"I'm not up on etiquette," Romeo replied, casually, "but I should think, if she wanted to come, she could do it by now. We made a polite call as far as I know."
"We didn't leave any cards."
"Cards? What kind of cards?"
"Why, little cards with our names on 'em. People always leave 'em, in the books, when they make calls."
Romeo went over to the slate again and made another memorandum. "I'll get 'em. What'll we have on 'em?"