ise.

"I'll walk a little way with you; may I?" asked Patsy, smiling into
Tato's splendid eyes.

"To be sure, signorina," was the quick response.

Patricia caught up a sunshade and followed the child out at the side
entrance, which was little used. Tato took the way along the old road,
and Patsy walked beside her, chatting brightly of the catacombs, the
Norman villa that showed its checkered tower above the trees and the
ancient wall that still hemmed in the little village.

"I love Taormina," she said, earnestly, "and shall be sorry to leave it.
You must be very happy, Tato, to be able to live here always."

"It is my birthplace," she said; "but I long to get away from it and see
other countries. The view is fine, they say; but it tires me. The air is
sweet and pure; but it oppresses me. The climate is glorious; but I have
had enough of it. In other places there is novelty, and many things that
Sicily knows nothing of."

"That is true," replied Patsy, tucking the little one's arm underneath
her own, with a sympathetic gesture. "I know just how you feel, Tato.
You must come to America some day, and visit me. I will make you very
welcome, dear, and you shall be my friend."

The child looked into her face earnestly.

"You do not hate me, signorina, because--because--"

"Because why?"

"Because my errand to you has been so lawless and--and--unfriendly?"

"Ah, Tato, you do not choose this life, do you?"

"No, signorina."

"It is forced on you by circumstances, is it not?"

"Truly, signorina."

"I know. You would not long so wistfully to change your condition if you
enjoyed being a little brigand. But nothing that has passed must
interfere with our friendship, dear. If I were in your place, you see, I
would do just as you have done. It is not a very honest life, Tato, nor
one to be proud of; but I'm not going to blame you one bit."

They had passed the Catania Gate and reached the foot of one of the
mountain paths. Tato paused, hesitatingly.

"Oh, I'll go a little farther," said Patsy, promptly. "No one will
notice two girls, you know. Shall I carry your parcel for a time?"

"No," replied the child, hugging it close with her disengaged arm. But
she offered no objection when Patsy continued to walk by her side.

"Have you any brothers or sisters, Tato?"

"No, signorina."

"Have you a mother?"

"No, signorina. My father and I are alone."

"I know him well, Tato. We were on the ship together, crossi