sking them to lunch to-day. I suppose we
don't mind, do we?" She held the gray sheet out to Angelo, but he did
not take it.

"I suppose not," he answered reluctantly. "But it's a bore having a
stranger thrust on us. Why not be engaged for luncheon and invite them
for tea?"

Marie laughed. "Selfish man! I know what's in your head. You'd go out
and leave Mary and me to entertain your dear cousin and her friend. No,
I won't have Miss Bland think I'm jealous or inhospitable--for of course
she'd blame me. She knows we never go out for luncheon. Unfortunately I
told her. I'll write a line to send back by her messenger, to say lunch
by all means."

"Very well, if you think you must." Angelo spoke with gloomy
resignation.

"Dear Mary, you write," said Marie lazily. "You've got paper and a
stylo, and she doesn't know my hand. I'm too comfortable to move."

Mary put aside her letter to Vanno which must catch the next post, and
scribbled a few lines to Miss Bland.

"Will you sign if I bring you the pen?" she asked.

"No, thanks. I give you leave to forge my name. It will soon be your
own, so you may as well practise writing it," said Marie. "Just put the
initial 'M.'"

The girl obeyed. "M. Della Robbia," she wrote, forming the letters
almost lovingly. How strange to think that before long that would be her
own name! Mary Della Robbia! The sound was very sweet to her, though to
be a princess was of no great importance. If Vanno were a peasant, to
become his wife would make her a queen.

When the answer was ready, Americo received it upon his little tray.

"Two ladies for luncheon, you may tell the _chef_," said Marie.

"All right, Highness. And other Highness, I was to make you know from
the gardener, one fox have bin catched in a trap on the way to eat the
rabbits of the semaphore. If the Highness wish to visit him, he is there
for this morning."

"One would think it was an invitation for an 'At Home,'" laughed Marie
behind the butler's broad back, as he vanished with the letter, through
the window-door. "Fancy, foxes in the woods of Cap Martin, within four
miles of Monte Carlo! They ought to be extra cunning."

"They must be," said Angelo, "to keep out of sight as they do in the
Season, and yet manage to snatch a meal of rabbit or chicken
occasionally. I think I'll stroll over to the semaphore and have a look
at the gentleman, as I could hardly believe our gardener the other day
when he swore there were foxes and