ne but the servants and me.
But to me the monotony of our existence is fast becoming unbearable and
I often wonder if I can stand it for three years longer--until I'm
eighteen. Then I shall be my own mistress and entitled to handle my own
money, and you may rest assured I shall make up for lost time."

They let that remark pass, also, but later in the afternoon, when
luncheon was over and the two girls were wandering in the lovely
gardens of the Hotel Vittoria, while the Colonel indulged in an
afternoon siesta, Mary Louise led Alora to speak freely of her past
life.

"My grandfather says that your mother must have left you a good deal of
money," she remarked.

"Yes; mamma told me it was a large fortune and that I must guard it
wisely and use it generously to help others less favored," replied
Alora thoughtfully.

"And she left it all in your father's keeping?"

"Not the principal. That is all invested, and thank goodness my father
cannot touch it in any way. But the income is paid to him regularly,
and he may do as he pleases with it. I am sure mamma expected I would
have every reasonable wish gratified, and be taught every womanly
accomplishment; but I'm treated as a mere dependent. I'm almost
destitute of proper clothing--really, Mary Louise, this is the best
dress I possess!--and I've been obliged to educate myself, making a
rather poor job of it, I fear. I read the best of father's books, when
he is done with them, and note carefully the manner in which the
characters express themselves and how they conduct themselves in
society as well as in worldly contact. I do not wish to be wholly
_gauche_ when I come into my kingdom, you see, and the books are my
only salvation. I don't care much for the stories, but some of the good
writers are safe guides to follow in the matter of dialogue and
deportment. Fortunately, father's books are all in English. He doesn't
understand much Italian, although I have learned to speak the language
like a native--like our native servants, you know."

Mary Louise reflected on this confession. "I'm afraid, Alora dear, that
modern novels are not prone to teach morality, or to develop a girl's
finer intuitions," she said gravely. "I think you express yourself very
well--better than I do, indeed--but you need association with those who
can convey to you the right principles of thought and thus encourage
your mental development. Culture and refinement seem to come more from
association t