Old Rose and Silver Part 8

"Loads," replied Romeo, with the air of a plutocrat. "More than we can spend."

"We get our income the first day of every month," explained Juliet, "and put it into the bank, but when the next check comes, there's always some left." They seemed to consider it a mild personal disgrace.

"Why don't you save it?" queried Isabel.

"What for?" Romeo demanded, curiously.

"Why, so you'll have it if you ever need it."

"It keeps right on coming," Juliet explained, pulling down her sweater.

"Uncle died in Australia and left it to us. He died on the thirtieth of June, and we always celebrate."

"Why don't you celebrate his birthday?" suggested Isabel, "instead of the day he died?"

"His birthday was no good to us," replied Romeo, "but his death-day was."

"But if he hadn't been born, he couldn't have died," Isabel objected, more or less logically.

"And if he hadn't died, his being born wouldn't have helped us any,"

replied Juliet, with a dazzling smile.

There was another pause. "Will you have some tea?" asked Isabel.

"With rum in it?" queried Juliet.

"I don't think so," said Isabel, doubtfully. "Aunt Francesca never does."

"We don't, either," Romeo explained, "except when it's very cold, and then only a teaspoonful."

"The doctor said we didn't need stimulants. What was it he said we needed, Romie?"

"Sedatives."

"Yes, that was it--sedatives. I looked it up in the dictionary. It means to calm, or to moderate. I think he got the word wrong himself, for we don't need to be calmed, or moderated, do we, Romie?"

"I should say not!"

The twins sipped their tea in silence and nibbled daintily at wafers from the cracker jar. Then, feeling that their visit was over, they rose with one accord.

"We've had a dandy time," said Juliet, crus.h.i.+ng Isabel's hand in hers.

"Bully," supplemented Romeo. "Come and see us."

"I will," Isabel responded, weakly. "How do you get there?"

"Just walk up the main road and turn to the left. It's about three miles."

"Three miles!" gasped Isabel. "I'll drive out."

"Just so you come," Romeo said, graciously. "It's an awful old place.

You'll know it by the chimney being blown over and some of the bricks lying on the roof. Good-bye."

Juliet turned to wave her hand at Isabel as they banged the gate, and Romeo awkwardly doffed his cap. Their hostess went up-stairs with a sigh of relief. She had the sensation of having quickly closed a window upon a brisk March wind.

The twins set their faces toward home. The three-mile walk was nothing to them, even after a day of skating. The frosty air nipped Juliet's cheeks to crimson and she sniffed at it with keen delight.

"It's nice to be out," she said, "after being in that hot house. What do you think of her, Romie?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied carelessly. "Say, how did she have her hair done up?"

"She had rats in it, and it was curled on a hot iron."

"Rats? What in thunder is--or are--that, or they?"

"Little wads of false hair made into cus.h.i.+ony rolls."

"Did she tell you?"

"No," laughed Juliet. "Don't you suppose I can see a rat?"

"I thought rats had to be smelled."

"Not this kind."

"She smelled of something kind of sweet and sticky. What was it?'

"Sachet powder, I guess, or some kind of perfume."

"I liked the smell. Can we get some?"

"I guess so--we've got the price."

"Next time you see her, ask her what it is, will you?"

"All right," answered Juliet, unperturbed by the request.

The rest of the way was enlivened by a discussion of automobiles. Romeo had a hockey match on for the following day, which was Sat.u.r.day, so they were compelled to postpone their investigations until Monday. It seemed very long to wait.

"It's no good now, anyhow," said Romeo. "We can't run it until the roads melt and dry up."

"That's so," agreed his twin, despondently. "Why did she tell us now?

Why couldn't she wait until we had some chance?"

"I guess we can learn something about it before we try to run it," he observed, cheerfully. "If we can get it into the barn, we can take it all apart and see how it's put together."

"Oh, Romie!" cried Juliet, with a little skip. "How perfectly fascinating! And we'll read all the automobile literature we can get hold of. I do so love to be posted!"

Upon the death of their father, several years ago, the twins had promptly ceased to go to school. The kindly old minister who had been appointed executor of their father's small estate and guardian of the tumultuous twins had been unable to present any arguments in favour of systematic education which appealed to them even slightly.