e dream about our soldiers up there, and I was just
killing a whole regiment of Austrians, and now you come and spoil it."

A curly black head appeared above the tops of the flowers, and two
reproachful brown eyes stared up at her.

Lucia laughed again. "Poor Beppino, some one is always disturbing your
fine dreams, aren't they? But come now, I have something far better
than dreams for you," she coaxed.

"What?" Beppi was on his feet in an instant, and the sleepy look
completely disappeared.

"Ha, ha, now you are curious," Lucia teased, "aren't you? Well, you
shan't see what I have, until you promise to do what I ask."

Beppi's round eyes narrowed, and a cunning expression appeared in their
velvety depth.

"I suppose I am not to tell Nana that you left the house before sunrise
this morning," he said.

Lucia looked at him for a brief moment in startled surprise, then she
replied quickly, "No, that is not it at all. What harm would it do if
you told Nana? I am often up before sunrise."

"Yes, but you don't go to the mountains," Beppi interrupted. "Oh, I
saw you walking smack into the guns. What were you doing?" He dropped
his threatening tone, so incongruous with his tiny body, and coaxed
softly, "please tell me, sister mine."

"Silly head!" Lucia was breathing freely again, "there is nothing to
tell. I heard the guns all night, and they made me restless, so I went
for a walk. Go and tell Nana if you like, I don't care."

Beppi's small mind returned to the subject at hand.

"Then if it isn't that, what is it you want me to do?" he inquired, and
continued without giving his sister time to reply. "It's to take care
of them, I suppose," he grumbled, pointing a browned berry-stained
little finger at a herd of goats that were grazing contentedly a little
farther down the slope.

"Yes, that's it, and good care of them too," Lucia replied. "You are
not to go to sleep again, remember, and be sure and watch Garibaldi, or
she will stray away and get lost."

"And a good riddance too," Beppi commented under his breath.

He did not share in the general admiration for the "Illustrious and
Gentile Senora Garibaldi," the favorite goat of his sister's herd.
Perhaps the vivid recollection of Garibaldi's hard head may have
accounted for his aversion. Lucia heard his remark and was quick to
defend her pet.

"Aren't you ashamed to speak so?" she exclaimed, "I've a good mind not
to give you the candy after all."