d he wished he were to sleep
out of doors.

The Sora Nanna, who had been spending the evening with a friend in the
neighbourhood, came in, her thin black overskirt drawn over her head to
keep the embroidered head-cloth in its place. By and by, as Dalrymple
still stood by the door, Stefanone appeared, having been to play a game
of cards at a friendly wine-shop. He sat down by Sora Nanna at the
table. She was mixing some salad in a big earthenware bowl adorned with
green and brown stripes. They talked together in low tones. Dalrymple
had nodded to each in turn, but the gusty air pleased him, and he
remained standing by the door, letting it blow into his face.

It was growing late. Italian peasants are not great sleepers, and it is
their custom to have supper at a late hour, just before going to bed. By
this time it was nearly ten o'clock as we reckon the hours, or about
'four of the night' in October, according to old Italian custom, which
reckons from a theoretical moment of darkness, supposed to begin at Ave
Maria, half an hour after sunset.

Suddenly Dalrymple heard Annetta's voice in the room behind him,
speaking to her mother. He had no particular reason for supposing that
she had been out of the house since she had cleared the table and left
him, but unconsciously he had the impression that she had been away,
and was surprised to hear her in the room, after expecting that she
should pass him, coming in from the street, as the others had done. He
turned and walked slowly towards his place at the table.

"I thought you had gone out," he said carelessly, to Annetta.

The girl turned her head quickly.

"I?" she cried. "And alone? Without even Gigetto? When do I ever go out
alone at night? Will you have some supper, Signore?"

"I have just eaten, thank you," answered Dalrymple, seating himself.

"Three hours ago. It was not yet an hour of the night when you ate.
Well--at your pleasure. Do not complain afterwards that we make you die
of hunger."

"Bread, Annetta!" said Stefanone, gruffly but good-naturedly. "And
cheese, and salt--wine, too! A thousand things! Quickly, my daughter."

"Quicker than this?" inquired the girl, who had already placed most of
the things he asked for upon the table.

"I say it to say it," answered her father. "'Hunger makes long jumps,'
and I am hungry."

"Did you win anything?" asked Sora Nanna, with both her elbows on the
table.

"Five baiocchi."

"It was worth while to pay te