d a voice from the threshold,
Lucia's voice with the mockery of the successful, and Maria Angelina
turned from her dim glass with a flame of scarlet across her pallor, and
joined, with an angry heart, in the laugh which her sister and young
Tosti raised against her.

But Maria Angelina had a tongue.

"But yes--for the better fish are yet uncaught," she retorted with a
flash of the eyes toward the young man, and Paolo, all ardor as he was
for Lucia's olive and rose, shot a glance of tickled humor at her
impudence.

He promised himself some merry passes with the little sister-in-law.

Lucia resented the glances.

"Wait your turn, little one," she scoffed. "You will be in pinafores
until our poor Julietta is wed," and she laughed, unkindly.

There were times, Maria felt furiously, when she hated Lucia.

Her championing heart resolved that Julietta should not be left unwed
and defenseless to that mockery. Julietta should have her chance at
life!

Not a word of the great plan was breathed officially to the girl,
although the mother's expectancy for mail revealed that a letter had
already been sent, until that expectancy was rewarded by a letter with
the American postmark. Then the drama of revelation was exquisitely
enacted.

It appeared that the Blairs of New York, Mamma's dear cousins, were
insistent that one of Mamma's daughters should know Mamma's country and
Mamma's relatives. They had a daughter about Maria Angelina's age so
Maria Angelina had been selected for the visit. The girls would have a
delightful time together. . . . Maria would start in June.

Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled the Blairs as she had seen them some six
years ago in Rome--a kindly Cousin Jim who had given her sweets and
laughed bewilderingly at her and a Cousin Jane with beautiful blonde
hair and cool white gowns. Their daughter, Ruth, had not been with them,
so Maria had no acquaintance at all with her, but only the recollection
of occasional postcards to keep the name in memory.

She remembered once that there had been talk of this Cousin Ruth's
coming to school for a winter in Rome and that Mamma had bestirred
herself to discover the correct schools, but nothing had ever come of
it. The war had intervened.

And now she was to visit them. . . .

"You are going to America just as I went to Italy at your age," cried
Mamma. "And--who knows?--you too, may meet your fate on the trip!"

Mamma would overdo it, thought Maria Angelina