fine morning he would sometimes remark that it was a perfect Italian
sky. But nothing more than that."

I was about to thank her and move away when she stopped me with an
exclamation.

"Wait one moment," she said, "now I come to think of it, I remember that
about three months ago he received a letter from Italy. I'll tell you
how I came to know it. I was standing in the front verandah when the
postman brought up the letters. He gave me mine, and then I noticed that
the top letter he held in his hand had a foreign stamp. Now, my little
boy, Willie, collects stamps; he's tired of them now, but that doesn't
matter. At that time, however, he was so taken up with them that he
could talk of nothing else. Well, as I was saying, I noticed this stamp,
and asked the postman what country it came from. He told me it was from
Italy, and that the letter was for the gentleman next door. 'The next
time I see him,' I said to myself, 'I'll ask him for that stamp for
Willie.' I had my opportunity that self-same minute, for, just as I was
going down the garden there to where my husband was doing a little
cabbage-planting, he came into his front verandah. He took the letter
from the postman, and as he looked at the envelope, I saw him give a
start of surprise. His face was as white as death when he opened it, and
he had no sooner glanced at it than he gave a sort of stagger, and if it
hadn't been for the verandah-rail I believe he'd have fallen. He was so
taken aback that I thought he was going to faint. I was standing where
you may be now, and I called out to him to know whether I could do
anything for him. I liked the man, you see, and pitied him for his
loneliness. What's more, he and my husband had always been on friendly
terms together. Well, as I was going on to say, he didn't answer, but
pulling himself together, went into the house and shut the door. When