have been very busy
taking care of me."

Assunta trotted away, apparently content, to consult Giacomo about
dinner. The girl went on weaving with busy fingers, the shadow of her
lashes on her cheek. As she worked her thoughts wove for her the one
picture that they made always for her now: Apollo standing on the
hillside under the ilexes with the single ray of sunshine touching his
face. All the rest of her life kept fading, leaving the minutes of
that afternoon alone distinct. And it was ten days ago!

Presently Giacomo came hurrying down the path toward her, dangling his
white apron by its string as he ran.

"Signorina!" he called breathlessly. "Would the Signorina, when she
has finished that, graciously make another wreath?"

"Certainly. For you?"

"Not for me," he answered mysteriously, drawing nearer. "Not for me,
but for Antoli, the shepherd who herds the flock of Count Gianelli. He
has seen from the window the Signorina making a wreath for our Lady,
and he too wants to present her with a thank-offering for the miracle
she wrought for him. But will the Signorina permit him to come and
tell her?"

Even while Giacomo was speaking Daphne saw the man slowly approaching,
urged on apparently by encouraging gestures from Assunta, who was
standing at the corner of the house. A thrill went through the girl's
nerves as she saw the rough brown head of the peasant rising above the
sheepskin coat that the shepherd-god had worn. Unless miracle had made
another like it, it was the very same, even to the peculiar jagged edge
where it met in front.

Antoli's expression was foolish and ashamed, but at Giacomo's bidding
be began a recital of his recent experiences. The girl strained her
ears to listen, but hardly a word of this dialect of the Roman hills
was intelligible to her.

The gesture wherewith the shepherd crossed himself, and his devout
pointing to the sky were all she really understood.

Then Giacomo translated.

"Because he was ill--but the Signorina knows the story--the blessed
Saint Sebastian came down to him and guarded the sheep, and he went
home and became well, miraculously well. See how he is recovered from
his fever! It was our Lady who wrought it all. Now he comes back and
all his flock is there: not one is missing, but all are fat and
flourishing. Does not the Signorina believe that it was some one from
another world who helped him?"

"Si," answered Daphne, looking at the sheepskin c