"We might have the initials put on the dogs' collars, too," Juliet suggested.
"Sure," assented Romeo, cordially. "Then, if we lose any of 'em on the road, we can identify 'em when they're found, and get 'em back."
Juliet saw that she had made a mistake and hoped Romeo would forget about it, but vainly, for he lounged over and made a memorandum on the slate that hung in the hall.
"I wonder," continued Romeo, thoughtfully, "if the yard is big enough to train 'em in. We ought not to go out on the road until the thirtieth."
"That's easy enough," Juliet answered, with a superior air.
"How'd you go about it?" he demanded.
"If they were my dogs and I wanted 'em to follow me in an automobile, I'd let 'em fast for a day or two and fill the back seat of the machine with raw meat. They'd follow quick enough and be good and lively about it, too. They wouldn't need to be trained."
"Jule," said Romeo, solemnly, "will you please forgive me for calling you a 'sissy girl'?"
"Sure!" Juliet had learned long before she was twenty, that "forgive me," from a man's lips, indicates the uttermost depths of abasement and devotion.
"The fasting won't hurt 'em," Romeo continued, eager to change the subject. "They're all in good condition now."