silent disdain.

"I want," said Miss Callis sweetly, leaning forward with her chin
artlessly poised in her hand, "to know if you are paid to make faces at
the guests of this hotel."

There was laughter, above which Emmeline's crow rose loud and clear, and
as the waiter hastened away, suddenly transformed into a sycophant,
poppa remarked, "I see you've got those hotel tickets, too. Let me give
you a little pointer. Say nothing about it until next day. They are like
that sometimes. In being deprived of the opportunity of swindling us,
they feel that they've been done themselves."

"Oh," said Mr. Malt, "we never reveal it for twenty-four hours. That
fellow must have smelled 'em on us. Now, how were you proposing to spend
the day?"

"We're going to the Forum," remarked Emmeline. "Do come with us, Mr.
Wick. We should love to have you."

"We mustn't forget the Count," said momma to the Senator.

[Illustration: "Are you paid to make faces?"]

"What Count?" Emmeline inquired. "Did you ever, momma! Mis' Wick knows
a count. She's been smarter than we have, hasn't she? Introduce him to
us, Mis' Wick."

"Emmeline," said her mother severely, "you are as personal as ever you
can be. I don't know whatever Mis' Wick will think of you."

"She's merely full of intelligent curiosity, Mis' Malt," said Mr. Malt,
who seemed to be in the last stage of infatuated parent. "I know you'll
excuse her," he added to momma, who said with rather frigid emphasis,
"Oh yes, we'll excuse her." But the hint was lost and Emmeline remained.
Poppa looked in his memorandum book and found that the Count was not to
arrive until 3 P.M. There was, therefore, no reason why we should not
accompany the Malts to the Forum, and it was arranged.

A quarter of an hour later we were rolling through Rome. As a family we
were rather subdued by the idea that it was Rome, there was such immense
significance even in the streets with tramways, though it was rather an
atmosphere than anything of definite detail; but no such impression
weighed upon the Malts. They took Rome at its face value and refused to
recognise the unearned increment heaped up by the centuries. However, as
we were divided in two carriages, none of us had all the Malts.

It was warm and dusty, the air had a malarious taste. We drove first, I
remember, to the American druggist's in the Piazza di Spagna for some
magnesia Mrs. Malt wanted for Emmeline, who had prickly heat. It was
annoying to have o