wait."

"We can learn to run it here in the yard--there's plenty of room. And on
the thirtieth of June, we'll take our first real ride in it. Be a sport,
Romie," she urged, as he maintained an unhappy silence.

"All right--I will," he said, grudgingly. "But I hope Uncle appreciates
what we're doing for him."

"That's settled, then," she responded, cheerfully. "Then, on our second
ride, we'll take somebody with us. Who shall we invite?"

"Oughtn't she to go with us the first time?"

"She? Who's 'she'?"

"Miss Ross--Isabel. She suggested it, you know. We might not have
thought of it for years."

Juliet pondered. "I don't believe she ought to go the first time,
because the day that Uncle died doesn't mean anything to her, and it's
everything to us. But we'll take her on the second trip. Shall I write
to her now and invite her?"

"I don't believe," Romeo responded, dryly, "that I'd stop to write an
invitation to somebody to go out four months from now in an automobile
that isn't bought yet."

"But it's as good as bought," objected Juliet, "because our minds are
made up. We may forget to ask her."