I accept his kind offer, and then conduct him to me, in order that I may thank him personally?” 

 She raised her voice as she spoke; it was heard all over the drawing-room, and silenced the Guelfs and the Ghibellines. The clergyman, inwardly cursing the female sex, bowed, and departed with her message. 

 “Remember, Lucy, I alone am implicated in this. I do not wish the acceptance to come from you. Grant me that, at all events.” 

 Mr. Beebe was back, saying rather nervously: 

 “Mr. Emerson is engaged, but here is his son instead.” 

 The young man gazed down on the three ladies, who felt seated on the floor, so low were their chairs. 

 “My father,” he said, “is in his bath, so you cannot thank him personally. But any message given by you to me will be given by me to him as soon as he comes out.” 

 Miss Bartlett was unequal to the bath. All her barbed civilities came forth wrong end first. Young Mr. Emerson scored a notable triumph to the delight of Mr. Beebe and to the secret delight of Lucy. 

 “Poor young man!” said Miss Bartlett, as soon as he had gone. 

 “How angry he is with his father about the rooms! It is all he can do to keep polite.” 

 “In half an hour or so your rooms will be ready,” said Mr. Beebe. Then looking rather thoughtfully at the two cousins, he retired to his own rooms, to write up his philosophic diary. 

 “Oh, dear!” breathed the little old lady, and shuddered as if all the winds of heaven had entered the apartment. “Gentlemen sometimes do not realize—” Her voice faded away, but Miss Bartlett seemed to understand and a conversation developed, in which gentlemen who did not thoroughly realize played a principal part. Lucy, not realizing either, was reduced to literature. Taking up Baedeker’s Handbook to Northern Italy, she committed to memory the most important dates of Florentine History. For she was determined to enjoy herself on the morrow. Thus the half-hour crept profitably away, and at last Miss Bartlett rose with a sigh, and said: 

 “I think one might venture now. No, Lucy, do not stir. I will superintend the move.” 

 “How you do do everything,” said Lucy. 

 

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