nterposed the widow.

"Oh yes! Yes! I see. Miss Houghton. I didn't know how it was said.
Huff-ton--yes? Miss Houghton. I've got a bad cold on my chest--"
laying her plump hand with the rings on her plump bosom. "But let me
introduce you to my young men--" A wave of the plump hand, whose
forefinger was very slightly cigarette-stained, towards the table.

The four young men had risen, and stood looking at Alvina and
Madame. The room was small, rather bare, with horse-hair and
white-crochet antimacassars and a linoleum floor. The table also was
covered with a brightly-patterned American oil-cloth, shiny but
clean. A naked gas-jet hung over it. For furniture, there were just
chairs, arm-chairs, table, and a horse-hair antimacassar-ed sofa.
Yet the little room seemed very full--full of people, young men with
smart waistcoats and ties, but without coats.

"That is Max," said Madame. "I shall tell you only their names, and
not their family names, because that is easier for you--"

In the meantime Max had bowed. He was a tall Swiss with almond eyes
and a flattish face and a rather stiff, ramrod figure.

"And that is Louis--" Louis bowed gracefully. He was a Swiss
Frenchman, moderately tall, with prominent cheekbones and a wing
of glossy black hair falling on his temple.

"And that is Geoffroi--Geoffrey--" Geoffrey made his bow--a
broad-shouldered, watchful, taciturn man from Alpine France.

"And that is Francesco--Frank--" Francesco gave a faint curl of his
lip, half smile, as he saluted her involuntarily in a military
fashion. He was dark, rather tall and loose, with yellow-tawny eyes.
He was an Italian from the south. Madame gave another look at him.
"He doesn't like his English name of Frank. You will see, he pulls a
face. No, he doesn't like it. We call him Ciccio also--" But Ciccio
was dropping his head sheepishly, with the same faint smile on his
face, half grimace, and stooping to his chair, wanting to sit down.

"These are my family of young men," said Madame. "We are drawn from
three races, though only Ciccio is not of our mountains. Will you
please to sit down."

They all took their chairs. There was a pause.

"My young men drink a little beer, after their horrible journey. As
a rule, I do not like them to drink. But tonight they have a little
beer. I do not take any myself, because I am afraid of inflaming
myself." She laid her hand on her breast, and took long, uneasy
breaths. "I feel it. I feel it _here