“Same way they break a colt.  Get him used to the harness, then to shafts, and so on.  Now, I can run any car that ever was built—­make it stand on its hind wheels if I want to and roll through a crowd without making anybody even wink faster.  I think I’ll go out and get that one and take the whole bunch of you out for a cure.”

Juliet was listening attentively, with her blue eyes wide open and her scarlet lips parted.  Doctor Jack was subtly conscious of a new sensation.

“I see,” she said.  “Romie made me hold snakes by their tails until I wasn’t afraid of ’em, and made me kill mice and even rats.  Only sissy girls are afraid of snakes and rats.  And just because we were both afraid to go by the graveyard at night, we made ourselves do it.  We can walk through it now, even if there isn’t any moon, and never dodge a single tombstone.”

“Was it hard to learn to do it?” asked the doctor.  If he was amused, he did not show it now.

“No,” Juliet answered, “because just before we did it, we read about it’s being called ‘God’s Acre.’  So I told Romie that God must be there as much or more than He was anywhere else, so how could we be afraid?”

“After you once get it into your head that God is everywhere,” added Romeo, “you can’t be afraid because there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The simple, child-like faith appealed to both men strongly.  Allison was much surprised, for he had not imagined that there was a serious side to the twins.

“Will you forgive us?” asked Juliet, humbly.

“Please,” added Romeo.

“With all my heart,” Allison responded, readily.  “I’ve never thought there was anything to forgive.”

“Then our sacrifice is over,” cried Juliet, joyously.

“Yes,” her brother agreed, with a wistful expression on his face, “and to-night we can have something to eat.”

The twins never lingered long after the object of a visit was accomplished, so they rose almost immediately to take their departure.  “Cards, Romie,” Juliet suggested, in an audible whisper.

Romeo took a black bordered envelope from an inner pocket and gravely extended a card to each.  Then they bowed themselves out, resisting with difficulty the temptation to slide down the banister instead of going downstairs two steps at a time.

Doctor Jack’s mobile face had assumed an entirely new expression.  He put away the card inscribed The Crosby Twins as though it were an article of great value, then leaned out over the veranda railing to catch a glimpse of the two flying figures in white.

“Upon my word!” he exclaimed.

Allison laughed aloud.  “You’re not disappointed in the twins, are you?”

“If I were going to be run over,” remarked the Doctor, ignoring the question, “I believe I’d choose them to do it.  Think of the little pagans burning their car and repenting in sackcloth and ashes, not to mention shooting the dogs and living upon penitential fare.”