"That is right," continued the girl. "Drink, mamma, it will do you good.
And then, and then--let me see. And then you must talk to Suntarella
about the dinner. That old woman has no head--"

"Dinner!" cried the mother, "who thinks of dinner at such a time? And he
left me the money for the outfit, too! Lucia, my love, I have the
fever--I will go to bed."

"Eh! What do you suppose? That is a way out of all difficulties,"
answered Lucia philosophically.

"But you cannot go out alone--"

"I will stay at home in that case."

"And then he will come to dinner, and ask to see the things--"

"There will be no things to show him," returned the young girl.

"Well? And then where should we be?" inquired the Signora Pandolfi. "I
see him, my husband, coming back and finding that nothing has been done!
He would tear his hair! He would kill us! He would bring his broomstick
of a lawyer here to marry you this very afternoon, and what should we
have gained then? It needs judgment, Lucia, my heart--judgment,
judgment!" repeated the fat lady, tapping her forehead.

"Eh! If you have not enough for two, mamma, I do not know what we shall
do."

"At the same time, something must be done," mused Maria Luisa. "My head