“They say abroad, that there are no children in America—­that they are merely little people treated like grown-ups.”

“The modern American child is a horror,” said Juliet, unconsciously quoting from an article in a recent magazine.  “They’re ill bred and they don’t mind, and there’s nobody who wants to make ’em mind except people who have no authority to do it.”

“Why is it?” inquired Allison, secretly amused.

“Because spanking has gone out of fashion,” she answered, in all seriousness.  “It takes so much longer for moral suasion to work.  Romie and I never had any ’moral suasion,’—­we were brought up right.”

Juliet’s tone indicated a deep filial respect for her departed parents and there was a faraway look in her blue eyes which filled Allison with tender pity.

“You must be lonely sometimes,” he said, kindly.

“Lonely?” repeated Juliet in astonishment; “why, how could I ever be lonely with Romie?”

“Of course you couldn’t be lonely when he was there, but you must miss him when he’s away from you.”

“He’s never away,” she answered, with a toss of her curly head.  “We’re most always together, unless he goes to town—­or up to your house,” she added, as an afterthought.

Allison was about to say that Romeo had never been there before, but wisely kept silent.

“Twins are the most related of anybody,” Juliet went on.  “An older brother or sister may get ahead of you and be so different that you never catch up, but twins have to trot right along together.  It’s just the difference between tandem and double harness.”

“Suppose Romeo should marry?” queried Allison, carelessly.

“I’d die,” replied Juliet, firmly, her cheeks burning as with flame.

“Or suppose you married?”

“Then Romie would die,” she answered, with conviction.  “We’ve both promised not to get married and we always keep our promises to each other.”

“And to other people, too?”

“Not always.  Sometimes it’s necessary to break a promise, or to lie, but never to each other.  If Romie asks me anything I don’t want to tell him, I just say ‘King’s X,’ and if I ask him anything, he says ’it’s none of your business,’ and it’s all right.  Twins have to be square with each other.”

“Don’t you ever quarrel?”

“We may differ, and of course we have fought sometimes, but it doesn’t last long.  We can always arbitrate.  Say, do you know Isabel Ross?”

“I have that pleasure.  She’s coming to dinner to-night, with Aunt Francesca and Miss Rose.”

“Oh,” said Juliet, in astonishment.  “If I’d known that, I’d have dressed up more.  I thought it was just us.”

“It is ‘just us,’” he assured her, kindly; “a very small and select party composed of our most charming neighbours, and believe me, my dear Miss Juliet, that nobody could possibly be ‘dressed up more.’”