interference. Romeo had not seen the necessity of the fence until Juliet
had pointed out that some of the dogs would want to sleep on the leather
cushions. "It would make it smell so doggy," she had said, "that we'd
have to call it 'The Yellow Dog' instead of 'The Yellow Peril.'"

Romeo, with true masculine detachment, could talk automobile with
unfailing enthusiasm, and yet think continually about something else.
The thought that Isabel might not like Juliet had not occurred to him.
It seemed impossible that anybody should not like Juliet, for, in the
fond eyes of her twin, she was the most sane and sensible girl in the
world.

"Anyhow," thought Romeo as he went to sleep that night, "if Jule wants
her to come here, she's got to do it, that's all."

He meditated upon the problem for several days without reaching any
satisfactory conclusion. At last he determined to go up to see Isabel
himself, and, as he phrased it in his own mind, "see how the land lays."
It would be difficult to elude Juliet, but, in Romeo's experience, the
things one determined to do could nearly always be done.

It was an easy matter to make an errand to the City, "to poke 'em up a
bit about the machine," and to get the visiting cards, which had
promptly been ordered by mail. Juliet rather insisted upon going along,
but was easily dissuaded by the fact that "there might be a row, and
anyway, it's a man's job."

He came home about dusk with several packages, one of which he carefully
concealed under a pile of leaves in the fence corner just inside the
yard. He could easily reach through the palings and lift it over the