The child's legs had become as melting wax. Each time that old Mr.
Emerson and Lucy set it erect it collapsed with a roar. Fortunately an
Italian lady, who ought to have been saying her prayers, came to the
rescue. By some mysterious virtue, which mothers alone possess, she
stiffened the little boy's back-bone and imparted strength to his knees.
He stood. Still gibbering with agitation, he walked away.

"You are a clever woman," said Mr. Emerson. "You have done more than
all the relics in the world. I am not of your creed, but I do believe in
those who make their fellow-creatures happy. There is no scheme of the
universe--"

He paused for a phrase.

"Niente," said the Italian lady, and returned to her prayers.

"I'm not sure she understands English," suggested Lucy.

In her chastened mood she no longer despised the Emersons. She was
determined to be gracious to them, beautiful rather than delicate,
and, if possible, to erase Miss Bartlett's civility by some gracious
reference to the pleasant rooms.

"That woman understands everything," was Mr. Emerson's reply. "But what
are you doing here? Are you doing the church? Are you through with the
church?"

"No," cried Lucy, remembering her grievance. "I came here with Miss
Lavish, who was to explain everything; and just by the door--it is too
bad!--she simply ran away, and after waiting quite a time, I had to come
in by myself."

"Why shouldn't you?" said Mr. Emerson.

"Yes, why shouldn't you come by yourself?" said the son, addressing the
young lady for the first time.

"But Miss Lavish has even taken away Baedeker."

"Baedeker?" said Mr. Emerson. "I'm glad it's THAT you minded. It's worth
minding, the loss of a Baedeker. THAT'S worth minding."

Lucy was puzzled. She was again conscious of some new idea, and was not
sure whither it would lead her.

"If you've no Baedeker," said the son, "you'd better join us." Was this
where the idea would lead? She took refuge in her dignity.

"Thank you very much, but I could not think of that. I hope you do not
suppose that I came to join on to you. I really came to help with the
child, and to thank you for so kindly giving us your rooms last night. I
hope that you have not been put to any great inconvenience."

"My dear," said the old man gently, "I think that you are repeating what
you have heard older people say. You are pretending to be touchy; but
you are not really. Stop being so tiresome, and tell me instead wh