where she had sat so many years before, and repeated "star-light,
star-bright" until she had remembered Aunt Victoria. Mrs. Marshall
watched her daughter's face as she read, and through the tones of the
clear eager voice she heard the clock striking. It sounded to her
remarkably like a tolling bell, but she gave no sign beyond a slight
paling. She told herself instantly that the slowly ticking clock
had counted her out several years of grace beyond what a mother
may expect. When Sylvia finished and looked up, the dulled look of
resignation swept from her face by the light of adventurous change,
her mother achieved the final feat of nodding her head in prompt,
cheerful assent.

But when Sylvia went away, light-hearted, fleeting forward to new
scenes, there was in her mother's farewell kiss a solemnity which she
could not hide. "Oh, Mother dear!" protested Sylvia, preferring
as always to skim over the depths which her mother so dauntlessly
plumbed. "Oh, Mother darling! How can you be so--when it's only for a
few weeks!"

BOOK III

_IN CAPUA AT LAST_

CHAPTER XXII

A GRATEFUL CARTHAGINIAN

Arnold Smith put another lump of sugar on his saucer, poured out
a very liberal allowance of rum into his tea, and reached for a
sandwich, balancing the cup and saucer with a deftness out of keeping
with his long, ungraceful loose-jointedness. He remarked in an
indifferent tone to Sylvia, back of the exquisitely appointed
tea-tray: "I don't say anything because I haven't the least idea what
you are talking about. Who _was_ Capua, anyhow?"

Sylvia broke into a peal of laughter which rang like a silver
chime through the vine-shaded, airy spaces of the pergola. Old Mr.
Sommerville, nosing about in his usual five-o'clock quest, heard
her and came across the stretch of sunny lawn to investigate.
"Oh, _here's_ tea!" he remarked on seeing Arnold, lounging,
white-flanneled, over his cup. He spoke earnestly, as was his custom
when eating was in question, and Sylvia served him earnestly and
carefully, with an instant harmonious response to his mood, putting
in exactly the right amount of rum and sugar to suit his taste, and
turning the slim-legged "curate's assistant" so that his favorite
sandwiches were nearest him.

"You spoil the old gentlemen, Sylvia," commented Arnold, evidently
caring very little whether she did or not.

"She spoils everybody," returned Mr. Sommerville, tasting his tea
complacently; "'_c'est son m