The hilltop was reached sooner than they expected, and in a little vale
was the old mansion--a really attractive vine-clad villa that might
have stood a century or so. It was not very big, but there were
numerous outbuildings which rendered the size of the house proper
unimportant. As Mary Louise and her grandfather drew nearer they
discovered a charming flower garden, carefully tended, and were not
surprised to find a young girl bending over a rosebush.

CHAPTER VIII
MARY LOUISE MEETS ALORA

The two stood motionless a moment, looking at the girl, and Mary Louise
marked the graceful figure and attractive features with real delight.
The Signorina Alora, as the man had called her, was nearly her own
age--fifteen, Mary Louise judged her to be--and her golden hair and fair
complexion proclaimed her an American. But now the girl's quick ears
had detected presence, and she looked up with a startled expression,
half fearful and half shy, and turned as if to fly. But in the next
moment she had collected herself and advanced with hesitating steps to
meet them.

"Pardon our intrusion," said Colonel Hathaway, raising his hat. "Our
carriage broke down on the Amalfi road, a little while ago, and our
driver has gone to Positano for a new wheel. Meantime we were exploring
our surroundings and stumbled upon the path leading to this spot.
Forgive the trespass, if you will, and allow me to present my
granddaughter, Mary Louise Burrows. I am Colonel James Hathaway, of New
York, although we usually reside at a little town called Dorfield."

The girl's bow was stiff and awkward. She blushed in an embarrassed way
as she replied:

"I am Alora Jones, sir, and am living here for a time with my father,
Jason Jones. We, also, are Americans; at least, we used to be."

"Then doubtless you are yet," responded the Colonel, with a smile. "May
we pay our respects to your father?"

"He--he is not home yet," she answered more embarrassed than before.
"He went to Sorrento for some books, this morning, and has not yet
returned. But perhaps he will be back soon," she added, seeming to
ponder the matter. "Will you not come in and--and have some
refreshment? In my father's absence I--I am glad to--welcome you."

She glanced shyly at Mary Louise, as if to implore her to forgive any
seeming lack of hospitality and accept her coldly worded invitation. No
one could look at Mary Louise without gaining confidence and the
friendly smile and warm ha