The
rumble of a distant cart woke them, and they sat up, shamefacedly
rubbing their eyes.
"Oh," cried Juliet, conscience-stricken, "we went to sleep! We went to
sleep on duty! How could we?"
"Dunno," returned Romeo, with a frank yawn. "Guess we were tired.
Anyhow, the machine is all right."
When the milkman came in sight, they hailed him and purchased a quart of
milk. He was scarcely surprised to see them, for the Crosbys were widely
known to be eccentric, and presently he drove on. His query about the
wrecked car had passed unnoticed.
"If you'll stay here, Jule," said Romeo, wiping his mouth, "I'll go and
get a team and some rope and we'll get the car in."
"Can't I go too?"
"No, you stay here. It's bad enough to sleep at your post without
deserting it."
"You slept, too," retorted Juliet, quickly on the defensive, "and I'm a
girl."
"Huh!" he sneered. The claim of feminine privilege invariably disgusted
him beyond words.
"Suppose people come by--" Juliet faltered; "and--ask--questions."
"Answer 'em," advised Romeo, briefly. "Tell 'em we've killed a man and
are going to suffer for it.
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