d friend, and the Marchesa, standing in her carriage,
scattered tips with a lavish hand. They drove away with the landlord
bowing from the doorway, and the crowd shouting vivas as long as the
carriage was in sight.

It was a long drive over beautiful, winding roadways to the villa, and
every inch of the way the Marchesa sat with her arms clasped about her
darlings telling them of their father, who was still in Florence
conducting the search, of the baby, who had six teeth and was fat as
butter, and hearing from them the tale of their adventures, while
Teresina beamed at them from the opposite seat.

At last they rounded a well-remembered curve in the road, and there,
shining down on them from the summit of a hill overlooking the village,
was their own white, vine-covered villa. The children shouted with joy
when they saw it, and Beppina threw a kiss.

Then they heard a great shouting down the road. All the village had
come out to greet the children of their beloved Marchesa. Old and
young, they swarmed about the carriage, shouting "Ben trovati," which
means "Welcome," and tossing flowers at the feet of the returned
travellers. Ah, what a happy time it was!

At last the carriage stood before the loggia of the villa, and when his
old dog, barking with joy, came bounding out to meet them, Beppo, who
had been dry-eyed and brave through all the dreadful weeks, buried his
head in Tonio's shaggy fur and gave way to tears.

After the baby had been kissed, and the servants greeted, and all the
dear, familiar places visited once more, it was time for supper, and,
oh, what a supper it was! The cook, the moment the wonderful news had
reached the villa, had flown to the kitchen, and there she had cooked
all their favourite dishes. There were artichokes for Beppina, and
_stufato_ for Beppo, and a cake as soft and light as thistle-down for
dessert. In the evening they received a telegram of welcome from their
dear Babbo in Florence, for the good news had been flashed across the
wires to him and all the servants in the Grifoni palace were rejoicing
too.

When bedtime came, instead of lying down upon straw, or a husk mattress,
the Twins had their own mother to tuck them in their own white beds in
their own dear, clean rooms, and then to sing them to sleep as she had
done when they were little, little children.

Long after they were safe in dreamland, the Marchesa lingered beside
their beds, and then, throwing herself upo