exclaimed with delight over the view which she saw from the windows.
On one side was the river with the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and
the monument on Bunker Hill. On the other stretched the smoky
expanse of Boston with the golden dome of the state house gleaming
in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle.

“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” Laura asked
triumphantly.

“Oh, no—how I wish I had!”

Laura beamed again.

“Laura likes to have things other people haven’t,” Maida thought.

Her hostess now conducted her back over the two flights of stairs to
the lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was all
shining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which was
filled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade;
into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because there
were so many books and—

“Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed, stopping before one of the pictures;
“that’s Santa Maria in Cosmedin. I haven’t seen that since I left
Rome.”

“How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?” a voice asked back of
her. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room.

Maida arose immediately from her chair. “We stayed in Rome two