the good and noble things he does," said
Bettina, proudly. "No wonder she loves him; but I do really think she
loves us too. Only the other day Malcom said he should be jealous were
it anybody but you and me. So I think all we can do is to keep on doing
just as we have done, and love her more dearly than ever."

"I wonder if there are any other girls in the world so happy as we
are," she added after a moment's silence--and the two pairs of brown
eyes looked into each other volumes of tender sympathy and gladness.

What a day was that birthday! Barbara and Bettina will surely tell of it
to their children and grandchildren! First of all came letters from the
dear home--birthday letters which Mrs. Douglas had withheld for a day or
two so that they should be read at the fitting time. Then the lovely
gifts! From Margery, an exquisite bit of sculptured marble for each,
chosen after much consultation with her uncle and many visits to Via dei
Fossi; from Malcom, copies of two of Fra Angelico's musical Angels, each
in a rich frame of Florentine hand-carving (for everything must be
purely Florentine, all had agreed); from Mr. Sumner, portfolios of the
finest possible photographs of the best works of Florentine masters from
the very beginning down through the High Renaissance.

Mrs. Douglas gave them most lovely outfits for the party--gowns of white
chiffon daintily embroidered--slippers, gloves--everything needful;
while Howard had asked that he might provide all the flowers.

When finally Barbara and Bettina stood on either side of Mrs. Douglas in
the floral bower where they received their guests, it was indeed as if
they were in fairy-land. It did not seem possible that any more pink or
white roses could be left in Florence, if indeed all Italy had not been
laid under tribute,--so lavish had Howard been. Barbara carried white
roses, and Bettina pink ones, and everywhere through the entire house
were the exquisite things, peeping out from amidst the daintiest greens
possible, or superb in the simplicity of their own magnificence.

The lovely American girls were the cynosure of all eyes, and the
flattering things said to them by foreigners and Americans were almost
enough to turn their heads. Mrs. Douglas was delighted with the simple
frankness and dignity with which they met all.

"You may trust well-bred American girls anywhere," she said to her
brother as she met him later in the evening, after all her guests had
been wel