Lathrop shook his head. "There she goes again, I didn't get even one
word this time."

He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a letter.

"See," he said, pointing to it.

Lucia nodded. Lathrop scratched his head.

"You--in--letter," he said painstakingly, "Girl, American."

"Oh, you have put me in your letter? How nice!" Lucia said. "What did
you say?"

"I get you, but I'm blest if I can tell you, and it's a shame, too.
You're such a little winner, you and your Mrs. Garibaldi, that I'd like
to be able to tell you so. But I guess it's hopeless."

All of which Lucia listened to politely, but without the first idea of
its meaning.

She nodded towards the gate and they walked towards it together.
Lathrop mailed his letter, and they stopped to look at the ruins.
Lucia questioned some soldiers who were clearing the streets as best
they could.

The town hall, at the end of the market-place, was still standing, and
to-day it was draped in Italian flags. It looked older and more
dignified than ever, amid the ruins, and the flag floated bravely in