“Jule,” said Romeo, sternly, “I don’t see what’s the matter with you lately.  You act like a sissy girl.  Go up into the attic and work on the trapeze for an hour or two, and you’ll feel better.  It wouldn’t surprise me now if you got so sissy that you were afraid of mice and snakes.”

Juliet’s anger rose to the point of tears.  “I’m not afraid of mice,” she sobbed, “and you know it.  And I’ll hold a little green snake by the tail just as long as you will, so there!”

Man-like, Romeo hated tears.  “Shut up, Jule,” he said, not unkindly, “and we’ll arbitrate.”

When her sobs ceased and she had washed her face in cold water, they calmly argued the question at issue.  Romeo candidly admitted that twenty dogs might well be sufficient for people of simple tastes and Juliet did not deny that only a “sissy girl” would be annoyed by barking.  Eventually, Romeo promised not to bring home any more dogs unless the present supply should be depleted by disappearance or accident, and Juliet promised not to chloroform any without his consent.  With one accord, they decided to fit out the dogs with brown leather collars trimmed with yellow and to train the herd to follow the automobile.

“They ought to be trained by the thirtieth of June,” observed Romeo.  “It would make more of a celebration for Uncle if we took ’em along.”

“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.”