in whose cathedral he painted a noble _Christ_, with prophets, saints,
and angels. He died in Rome."

"And was he not buried here?" asked Barbara; "here in this lovely inner
court, where are the graves of so many monks?"

"No. He was buried in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, a church close by the
Pantheon in Rome, and the Pope himself wrote his epitaph. But it is
indeed a great pity that he could not lie here, in the very midst of so
many of his works, and where he lived so long."

"Did Fra Angelico live before or after the prophet Savonarola, uncle?"
asked Margery. "We came here a little time ago with mother to visit the
latter's cell, and the church, in connection with our reading of
'Romola.'"

"He lived before Savonarola, about a hundred years. So that when
Savonarola used to walk about through these rooms and corridors, he saw
the same pictures we are now looking at."

* * * * *

"I say, uncle, don't you think I am having the best part of this, after
all?" brightly asked Malcom, the following day, as Mr. Sumner entered
the wide sunny room where he was lying on the sofa, propped up by
cushions, while Barbara, Bettina, and Margery were clustered about him
with their hands full of photographs of Fra Angelico's paintings, and
all trying to talk at once. "The girls have told me everything; and I am
almost sure I shall never mistake a Fra Angelico picture. I know just
what expression he put into his faces, just how quiet and