ys he, 'and if I have ever said
otherwise, I take it all back, and am ashamed.'"

Roma, who had turned to the window, heaved a sigh and said: "It has all
come out right in the end, Bruno. If you hadn't spoken against me to Mr.
Rossi, he wouldn't have spoken against me in the piazza, and then he and
I should never have met and known each other and been friends. All's
well that ends well, you know."

"Perhaps so, but the miracle doesn't make the saint, and you oughtn't to
keep me any longer."

"Do you mean that I ought to dismiss you?"

"Yes."

"Bruno," said Roma, "I am in trouble just now, and I may be in worse
trouble by-and-by. I don't know how long I may be able to keep you as a
servant, but I may want you as a friend, and if you leave me now...."

"Oh, put it like that, miss, and I'll never leave you, and as for your
enemies...."

Bruno was doubling up the sleeve of his right arm, when Joseph and the
poodle came back to the room. Roma received them with a merry cry, and
there was much noise and laughter. At length the gorgeous garments were
taken off, the cardboard box was corded, and Bruno and the boy prepared
to go.

"You'll come again, won't you, Joseph?" said Roma, and the boy's face
beamed.

"I suppose this little man means a good deal to his mother, Bruno?"

"Everything! I do believe she'd die, or disappear, or drown herself if
anything happened to that boy."

"And Mr. Rossi?"

"He's been a second father to the boy ever since the young monkey was
born."

"Well, Joseph must come here sometimes, and let me try and be a second
mother to him too.... What is he saying now?"

Joseph had dragged down his father's head to whisper something in his
ear.

"He says he's frightened of your big porter downstairs."

"Frightened of _him_! He is only a man, my precious! Tell him you are a
little Roman boy, and he'll _have_ to let you up. Will you remember? You
will? That's right! By-bye!"

Before going to sleep that night, Roma switched on the light that hung
above her head and read her letter again. She had been hoarding it up
for that secret hour, and now she was alone with it, and all the world
was still.

"_Saturday Night._

"MY DEAR ONE,--Your sweet letter brought me the intoxication of
delight, and the momentous matter you speak of is under way. It is
my turn to be ashamed of all the great to-do I made about the
obstacles to o