d; and like other vagabonds, they got a
great deal of pleasure out of their life. But to Lucy it seemed the most
terrible that mind could conceive. Without any home, without any
retirement or quietness, with a noisy band always playing, and a series
of migrations from one place to another--no work, no duties, nothing to
represent home occupations but a piece of _tapisserie_. She put her hand
very tenderly upon Bice's shoulder. There had been prejudices in her
mind against this girl--but they all melted away in a womanly pity.
"Oh," she said, "Cannot I help you in any way? Cannot Sir Tom--" But
here she paused. "I am afraid," she said, "that all we could think of
would be an occupation for you; something to do, which would be far, far
better, surely, than this wandering life."

Bice looked at her for a moment with a doubtful air. "I don't know what
you mean by occupation," she said.

And this, to Lucy's discomfiture, she found to be true. Bice had no idea
of occupation. Young Lady Randolph, who was herself not much instructed,
made a conscientious effort at least to persuade the strange girl to
read and improve her mind. But she flew off on all such occasions with a
laugh that was half mocking and half merry. "To what good?" she said,
with that simplicity of cynicism which is a quality of extreme youth.
"If I turn out beautiful, if I can marry whom I will, I will then get
all I want without any trouble."

"But if not?" said Lucy, too careful of the other's feelings to express
what her own opinions were on this subject.

"If not it will be still less good," said Bice, "for I shall never then
do anything or be of any importance at all; and why should I tr-rouble?"
she said, with that rattle of the r's which was about the only sign that
English was not her native speech. This was very distressing to Lucy,
who wished the girl well, and altogether Lady Randolph was anxious to
interfere on Bice's behalf, and put her on a more comprehensible
footing.

"It will be very strange when you go among other people in London," she
said. "Madame di Forno-Populo does not know England. People will want
to know who you are. And if you were to be married, since you will talk
of that," Lucy added with a blush, "your name and who you are will have
to be known. I will ask Sir Tom to talk to the Contessa--or," she said
with reluctance, "I will speak to her if you think she will listen to
me."

"I am called," said Bice, making a sweeping c