"That's like staying away from the water until you have learned to swim," answered Madame, comfortingly, "and Allison isn't going to die."
"Really? Do you mean it? Are you sure? How do you know?" The words came all at once, in a jumble of eager questions.
"Because he isn't. The worst that could possibly happen to him would be the loss of his left hand, and his father is looking all over the country for some surgeon who can save it."
"I'd rather die than to have my hand cut off," said Juliet, in a small, thin voice.
"So would I," added Romeo.
"We're all hoping for the best," Madame went on, "and you must hope, too. Nobody has thought of blaming you, so you mustn't feel so badly about it. Even Allison himself wouldn't want you to feel badly."
"But we do," Romeo answered, "in spite of all the sacrifices and everything."
"Sacrifices," repeated Madame, wonderingly, "why, what do you mean?"
"We did sentry duty all night by his car," Romeo explained, "and we're taking care of it in our barn."
"And we've lived on mush and milk ever since," Juliet added.