earnestness seemed to convey a meaning to Henry Gregg.

"Just wait a minute, folks," he said to the group of three, and joined
Mary Gowd, who had chosen a seat a dozen paces away. "What's the
trouble?" he asked jocularly. "Hope you're not offended because Tweet
said we didn't need you to-day. You know young folks--"

"They must not go alone," said Mary Gowd.

"But--"

"This is not America. This is Italy--this Caldini is an Italian."

"Why, look here; Signor Caldini was introduced to us last night. His
folks really belong to the nobility."

"I know; I know," interrupted Mary Gowd. "I tell you they cannot go
alone. Please believe me! I have been fifteen years in Rome. Noble or
not, Caldini is an Italian. I ask you"--she had clasped her hands and
was looking pleadingly up into his face--"I beg of you, let me go with
them. You need not pay me to-day. You--"

Henry Gregg looked at her very thoughtfully and a little puzzled. Then
he glanced over at the group again, with Blue Cape looking down so
eagerly into Tweetie's exquisite face and Tweetie looking up so raptly
into Blue Cape's melting eyes and Ma Gregg standing so placidly by. He
turned again to Mary Gowd's earnest face.

"Well, maybe you're right. They do seem to use chaperons in
Europe--duennas, or whatever you call 'em. Seems a nice kind of chap,
though."

He strolled back to the waiting group. From her seat Mary Gowd heard
Mrs. Gregg's surprised exclamation, saw Tweetie's pout, understood
Caldini's shrug and sneer. There followed a little burst of
conversation. Then, with a little frown which melted into a smile for
Blue Cape, Tweetie went to her room for motor coat and trifles that the
long day's outing demanded. Mrs. Gregg, still voluble, followed.

Blue Cape, with a long look at Mary Gowd, went out to confer with the
porter about the motor. Papa Gregg, hand in pockets, cigar tilted, eyes
narrowed, stood irresolutely in the centre of the great, gaudy foyer.
Then, with a decisive little hunch of his shoulders, he came back to
where Mary Gowd sat.

"Did you say you've been fifteen years in Rome?"

"Fifteen years," answered Mary Gowd.

Henry D. Gregg took his cigar from his mouth and regarded it
thoughtfully.

"Well, that's quite a spell. Must like it here." Mary Gowd said nothing.
"Can't say I'm crazy about it--that is, as a place to live. I said to
Mother last night: 'Little old Batavia's good enough for Henry D.' Of
course it's a grand education,