Boston and I were very
fond of each other in those days; and though I lost my claims to
admiration a long time ago, I have kept my friends."

"I have no doubt the admirers are still there too," said Mr. Copley.
"Does Mrs. Thayer mean to say she has no admirers? I profess myself
one!"

"Christina takes the admiration now-a-days. I am contented with that."

"And so you conquer by proxy."

"Mr. Copley," here put in his wife, "if you do not mean America by
'home,' what do you mean? and where are you going?"

"Where my home has been for a number of years. England--London."

"But you have given up your office?"

"I am half sorry, that is a fact."

"Then what should you do in London?"

"My dear, of the many hundred thousands who call London their home,
very few have an office."

"But they have business of some kind?"

"That is a Boston notion. Did you ever observe, Thayer, that a
Massachusetts man has no idea of life without business? It is the
reason why he is in the world, to him; it never occurs to him that
_play_ might be occasionally useful. I declare! I believe they don't
know the meaning of the word in America; it has dropped out, like a
forgotten art."

"But, father," Dolly spoke up now, "if you are going to London, mother
and I cannot possibly go to Sorrento."

"I don't quite see the logic of that."

"Why, we cannot be here in Italy quite alone."

"I'll leave you St. Leger to take care of you and bring you back; as he
took you away."

"I should be very happy to fall in with that plan," said Lawrence
slowly; "but I fear I cannot make it out. I have been making
arrangements to go into Greece, seeing that I am so near it. And I may
quite possibly spend another winter in Rome."

There was a pause, and when Mr. Copley spoke again there was another
sound in his voice. It was not his will to betray it, but Dolly heard
the chagrin and disappointment.

"Well," said he, "such independent travellers as you two ladies can do
pretty comfortably alone in that paragon of lodging-houses."

"But not make the journey home alone, father."

"When are you coming?"

"When you do, of course," said his wife.

Dolly knew it must be so and not otherwise. She sat still and
down-hearted, looking abroad over the bay of Naples, over all the
shores of which the moonlight was quivering or lying in still floods of
calm beauty. From this, ay, and from everything that was like this, in
either its fairness or its tranquill