erection, like a circus tent of wood with a conical grass roof, came the
resonant twanging of harp strings, the sharp ping of guitars, with the
grave drumming throb of an Indian gombo pulsating steadily through the
shrill choruses of the dancers.

Charles Gould said presently--

"All this piece of land belongs now to the Railway Company. There will
be no more popular feasts held here."

Mrs. Gould was rather sorry to think so. She took this opportunity to
mention how she had just obtained from Sir John the promise that the
house occupied by Giorgio Viola should not be interfered with. She
declared she could never understand why the survey engineers ever talked
of demolishing that old building. It was not in the way of the projected
harbour branch of the line in the least.

She stopped the carriage before the door to reassure at once the old
Genoese, who came out bare-headed and stood by the carriage step.
She talked to him in Italian, of course, and he thanked her with calm
dignity. An old Garibaldino was grateful to her from the bottom of his
heart for keeping the roof over the heads of his wife and children. He
was too old to wander any more.

"And is it for ever, signora?" he asked.

"For as long as you like."

"Bene. Then the place must be named, It was not worth while before."

He smiled ruggedly, with a running together of wrinkles at the corners
of his eyes. "I shall set about the painting of the name to-morrow."

"And what is it going to be, Giorgio?"

"Albergo d'Italia Una," said the old Garibaldino, looking away for a
moment. "More in memory of those who have died," he added, "than for the
country stolen from us soldiers of liberty by the craft of that accursed
Piedmontese race of kings and ministers."

Mrs. Gould smiled slightly, and, bending over a little, began to inquire
about his wife and children. He had sent them into town on that day. The
padrona was better in health; many thanks to the signora for inquiring.

People were passing in twos and threes, in whole parties of men and
women attended by trotting children. A horseman mounted on a silver-grey
mare drew rein quietly in the shade of the house after taking off his
hat to the party in the carriage, who returned smiles and familiar
nods. Old Viola, evidently very pleased with the news he had just heard,
interrupted himself for a moment to tell him rapidly that the house was
secured, by the kindness of the English signora, for as long as h