"Rather the worse for wear, aren't they, Barbara _mia_?"

"Indeed, they are. I didn't notice it, though, until we came here into
this bright Rome. We seem to have come all at once into spring sunshine
and the atmosphere of new clothes; and, Betty, I believe I do feel
shabby. I know you have been thinking the same thing, too; for everybody
else seems to have new spring dresses, and they are so fresh and pretty
that ours look doubly worse. Oh, dear!" and she sighed again.

Then, catching sight of her sister's downcast face, Barbara, in a
moment, after her usual fashion, rose above her annoyance and cried:--

"For shame, Barbara Burnett! to think that you are in Rome, the Eternal
City! that you are dressing to go to the Sistine Chapel to look at
Michael Angelo's frescoes! and do you dare to waste a thought on the
gown you are to wear! Oh, Betty! you are ashamed of me, too, I
know.--There, you dear old brown suit! Forgive me, and I never will do
such a mean thing again. To think of all the lovely places I have been
in with you, and now that I should like to cheat you out of seeing
Michael Angelo's frescoes!" and she adjusted the last button with such a
comical, half-disgusted expression on her face that Betty burst into a
merry laugh.

When the two girls came down stairs and stepped out upon the sidewalk
beside which the carriages were waiting, their radiant faces gave not
the slightest hint that any annoyance had ever lurked there; and no one,
looking into them, would ever give a thought to the worn brown dresses.
No one? not many, at least. Perhaps Miss Sherman, looking so dainty in
her own fresh attire, did. Anyway, as Mr. Sumner handed her into one of