en she watched Angiolino cutting the corn, and learned how
to tie the swathes together. She was occupied in this useful employment
when the noise of wheels made them both stop and look over the wall.

"Here's the padrone!" cried the boy.

"Oh, he is old!" said Goneril. "He is old and brown, like a
coffee-bean."

"To be old and good is better than youth with malice," suggested
Angiolino, by way of consolation.

"I suppose so," acquiesced Goneril.

Nevertheless she went in to dinner a little disappointed.

The signorino was not in the house; he had gone up to the villa; but
he had sent a message that later in the evening he intended to pay his
respects to his old friends. Madame Petrucci was beautifully dressed in
soft black silk, old lace, and a white Indian shawl. Miss Prunty had on
her starchiest collar and most formal tie. Goneril saw it was necessary
that she, likewise should deck herself in her best. She was much
too young and impressionable not to be influenced by the flutter of
excitement and interest which filled the whole of the little cottage.
Goneril, too, was excited and anxious, although Signor Graziano had
seemed so old and like a coffee-bean. She made no progress in the piece
of embroidery she was working as a present for the two old ladies,
jumping up and down to look out of the window. When, about eight
o'clock, the door-bell rang, Goneril blushed, Madame Petrucci gave
a pretty little shriek, Miss Prunty jumped up and rang for coffee.
A moment afterward the signorino entered. While he was greeting her
hostesses Goneril cast a rapid glance at him. He was tall for an
Italian, rather bent and rather gray; fifty at least--therefore very
old. He certainly was brown, but his features were fine and good, and he
had a distinguished and benevolent air that somehow made her think of
an abbe, a French abbe of the last century. She could quite imagine him
saying, "_Enfant de St. Louis, montez au ciel!_"

Thus far had she got in her meditations when she felt herself addressed
in clear, half-mocking tones:

"And how, this evening, is Madamigella Ruth?"

So he had seen her this evening binding his corn.

"I am quite well, padrone," she said, smiling shyly.

The two old ladies looked on amazed, for of course they were not in the
secret.

"Signor Graziano, Miss Goneril Hamelyn," said Miss Prunty, rather
severely.

Goneril felt that the time had come for silence and good manners. She
sat quite quiet over