l--perhaps he bumped her elbow as they stood staring up at the
glorious ceiling. A thousand pardons! Ah, an artist too? In five minutes
they were chattering like mad--she in bad French and exquisite English;
he in bad English and exquisite French. He knew Rome--its pictures, its
glories, its history--as only an Italian can. And he taught her art, and
he taught her Italian, and he taught her love.

And so they were married, or ostensibly married, though Mary did not
know the truth until three months later when he left her quite as
casually as he had met her, taking with him the little hoard, and Mary's
English trinkets, and Mary's English roses, and Mary's broken pride.

So! There was no going back to the fussy father or the spinster sister.
She came very near resting her head on Father Tiber's breast in those
days. She would sit in the great galleries for hours, staring at the
wonder-works. Then, one day, again in the Sistine Chapel, a fussy little
American woman had approached her, her eyes snapping. Mary was
sketching, or trying to.

"Do you speak English?"

"I am English," said Mary.

The feathers in the hat of the fussy little woman quivered.

"Then tell me, is this ceiling by Raphael?"

"Ceiling!" gasped Mary Gowd. "Raphael!"

Then, very gently, she gave the master's name.

"Of course!" snapped the excited little American. "I'm one of a party of
eight. We're all school-teachers And this guide"--she waved a hand in
the direction of a rapt little group standing in the agonising position
the ceiling demands--"just informed us that the ceiling is by Raphael.
And we're paying him ten lire!"

"Won't you sit here?" Mary Gowd made a place for her. "I'll tell you."

And she did tell her, finding a certain relief from her pain in
unfolding to this commonplace little woman the glory of the masterpiece
among masterpieces.

"Why--why," gasped her listener, who had long since beckoned the other
seven with frantic finger, "how beautifully you explain it! How much you
know! Oh, why can't they talk as you do?" she wailed, her eyes full of
contempt for the despised guide.

"I am happy to have helped you," said Mary Gowd.

"Helped! Why, there are hundreds of Americans who would give anything to
have some one like you to be with them in Rome."

Mary Gowd's whole body stiffened. She stared fixedly at the grateful
little American school-teacher.

"Some one like me--"

The little teacher blushed very red.

"I beg y