"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.

"What good is Latin?" asked Romeo, apparently athirst for information.

"Why--er--mental discipline, mostly," the harassed guardian had
answered.

"Isn't there anything we'd like that would discipline our minds?"
queried Juliet.

"I fear not," replied the old man, who lacked the diplomacy necessary to