he Indians in America had red skins.

Constance nodded yes. His eyes opened wider.

"Truly red like your coat?" with a glance at her scarlet golf jacket.

"Not quite," she admitted.

"But how it must be diverting," he sighed, "to travel the world over and
see different things." He fell silent and trudged on beside her, the
wanderlust in his eyes.

It was almost dark when they reached the big arched gateway that led into
the village. Here their ways parted and they paused for farewell.

"Signorina," the young man said suddenly, "take me with you back to
America. I will prune your olive trees, I will tend your vines. You can
leave me in charge when you go on your travels."

She shook her head with a laugh.

"But I have no vines; I have no olive trees. You would be homesick for
Italy."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Then good bye. You, signorina, will go around the world and see many
sights while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey to Valedolmo."

He shook hands all around and with the grace of a prince accepted two of
Tony's cigarettes. His parting speech showed him a fatalist.

"What will be, will be. There is a girl--" he waved his hand vaguely in
the direction of the village. "If I go to America then I cannot stay
behind and marry Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the best. You will
find me, signorina, when next you come to Italy, still digging the ground
in Grotta del Monte."

As he swung away Tony glanced after him with a suggestion of malice, then
he transferred his gaze to the empty gateway.

"I see no one else with whom you can talk Italian. Perhaps for ten
minutes you will deign to speak English with me?"

"I am too tired to talk," she threw over her shoulder as she followed her
father through the gate.

They plunged into a tangle of tortuous paved streets, the houses pressing
each other as closely as if there were not all the outside world to
spread in. Grotta del Monte is built on a slope and its streets are in
reality long narrow flights of stairs all converging in the little
piazza. The moon was not yet up, and aside from an occasional flickering
light before a madonna's shrine, the way was black.

"Signorina, take my arm. I'm afraid maybe you fall."

Tony's voice was humbly persuasive. Constance laughed and laid her hand
lightly on his arm. Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held her
firmly. Neither spoke until they came to the piazza.

"Signorina," he whispered, "you make me v