ot
for a picnic. They were filing past the group on the steps when Irene
suddenly sprang up.

"Why, Marjorie! Marjorie!" she exclaimed joyfully. "Don't you know me?"

The handsome, gray-eyed girl thus addressed looked puzzled for a moment,
then her face cleared with recognition.

"Renie! You've grown out of all remembrance! To think of meeting you
here of all places. I'm with some friends--the Prestons. We're on a six
weeks' tour in Italy. I went to see your mother in Naples yesterday.
What a jolly flat you have there! Isn't this absolutely glorious? I'm
having the time of my life."

"I should think you are by the look of you," laughed Irene. "Dona wrote
and told me you were coming to Italy, but I never expected to find you
here to-day. If Miss Morley will let me, may I bring my lunch along and
join your party for a little while? There are ten dozen things I want to
ask you."

"Of course. Come and share our sandwiches. We've plenty to spare."

Having received the required permission, Irene went away to talk to her
cousin, considerably to the admiration of most of her chums, and
decidedly to the envy of one. Lorna, who had settled herself by her side
on the steps, was not pleased to be deserted. She could never quite
forgive Irene for having so many friends. The brooding cloud that had
temporarily dispersed settled down again. When the girls got up to
explore the temple she marched glumly away by herself. All the beauty
and wonder and loveliness of the scene was lost upon her; for the sake
of a foolish fit of jealousy she was spoiling her own afternoon.

She was sitting upon a fallen piece of masonry, very wretched, and
indulging in a private little weep, when a footstep sounded on the stone
pavement, and somebody came and sat down quietly beside her. It was Mrs.
Clark, and she had the tact to take no notice as Lorna surreptitiously
rubbed her eyes. She knew far more about the girls at the Villa Camellia
than any of them suspected, and she had a very shrewd suspicion what lay
at the bottom of Lorna's mind. A skillful remark or two turned the
conversation on to the topic of the holidays.

"It's nice to go home, isn't it?"

Lorna gave a non-committal grunt.

"Even if you miss your friends!"

"I suppose so."

"And it's pleasant to think they may miss you?"

"I don't flatter myself they'll do that," burst out Lorna. "They're so
happy they never think about _me_. Mrs. Clark, you don't know my home.
I've nobod