lous."

When their drive was nearly over and they were watching the ever nearing
Perugia, Malcom turned toward Mr. Sumner with a serious look and
said:--

"Uncle Robert, these Italian cities are wonderfully interesting, and I
think I have never enjoyed anything in my life so much as the fortnight
since we left Florence and, of course, the time we were there; and yet I
would not for worlds live here among them."

Then, as Mr. Sumner looked inquiringly at him, he continued, with an
excited flush: "What is there in them that a man could get hold of to
help, anyway? It seems to me as if their lives have been all lived, as
if they now are dead; and how can any new life be put into them? Look at
these villages we have been passing through! What power can make the
people wish for anything better than they have, can wake them up to make
more of the children than the parents are? In the present condition of
people and government, how can any man, for instance, such as you are,
really accomplish anything? How would one go about it? Now at home, you
know, if one is only man enough, he can have so much influence to make
things better; can give children better schools; can give people books;
can help lift the low-down into a higher place. He can help in making
all sorts of reforms, can be a _leader_ in such things. He can go into
politics and try to make them cleaner."

Malcom had spoken out of his heart, and, in sympathy with him, Bettina
squeezed Barbara's hand under the cover.

Barbara, however, was looking at Mr. Sumner, and her quick eyes had
noted the sensitive change of expression in his; the startled look of
surprise that first leaped into them, and the steady pain that followed.
An involuntary glance at Barbara told him that she recognized his pain
and longed to say something to help, but she could not; and it was
Bettina who, after a moment's silence, said gently:--

"I am sure you are right, Malcom, but I think I could live all my life
in this dear, beautiful Italy if all whom I love were with me."

Malcom did not for a moment think that his words would so touch his
uncle. He had spoken from his own stand-point, with thought of himself
alone, and would have been amazed indeed could he have known what a
steady flame within his uncle's mind his little spark had kindled.

* * * * *

"What is the matter with Miss Sherman?" whispered Malcom in Margery's
ear, as, soon after dinner, they