here,"
she laughed.

"Well, I will tell you. My mother came from your beautiful Napoli, and
Nana, that is my grandmother, says I inherited my foolish love of gay
clothes from her. Nana does not like gay clothes, but my father always
liked me to wear them."

"Then your mother is dead too?" Roderigo asked respectfully.

"When I was a little girl, and when Beppino was a tiny baby. Beppi is
my little brother," Lucia explained.

Roderigo's eyes were shining with delight. There was something in
Lucia's soft tones that filled his homesick heart with joy. She was so
different from most of the girls from the north, with their strange
high voices and unfriendly manners. If she wasn't exactly from the
south she was near it. He wanted to sit down beside her and tell her
all about his home and his family, for he was very young and very
homesick, but Lucia decreed otherwise.

"Now do see what you have done," she scolded suddenly. "You have kept
me talking here until the sun is well down, and I will have to hurry if
I want to see Maria and return home before Nana misses me. So much for
gabbing on the high road with some one who should be watching for
suspicious spies instead of asking questions," she finished with a
provoking toss of her head.

Which sentence, considering that she had asked the first questions
herself, was unjust. Roderigo, however, did not seem to resent the
blame laid upon him. He did not even offer to contradict, but watched
Lucia until she disappeared around a corner a few streets beyond the
gate, and then he turned resolutely about and scanned the road with
searching determination, as if he really believed that the open,
smiling country about him might be concealing a spy.

When Lucia disappeared around the comer of the narrow street that led
to the market place, she stopped long enough to laugh softly to herself.

"The great silly! He took all the blame himself instead of boxing my
ears for being impertinent. A fine soldier he'll make! If I can scare
him, what will the guns do?" she said aloud, and then with a roguish
gleam of mischief in her eyes she hurried on.

The narrow side streets through which she passed were almost deserted,
but when she reached the market place it was thronged with people.
Every one was out to look at the new troops, and in the little square
the great white umbrellas over the market stalls were surrounded by
soldiers. Their picturesque uniforms added a gala n