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 cushiony rolls."
"Did she tell you?"
"No," laughed Juliet. "Don't you suppose I can see a rat?"
"I thought rats had to be smelled."