way into the little attic was damp and chill. Lucia crept out of bed,
being very careful not to disturb Beppi, and slipped hurriedly into her
clothes. With her shoes in her hand, she climbed gingerly down the
ladder past her sleeping grandmother and out to the shed.

"Good morning, Garibaldi, how are you this morning?" she said as she
patted the stocky little neck of her pet.

Garibaldi submitted to her caress with a condescension worthy of the
position her name gave her, and the other goats crowded to the open
door, eager to leave their cramped quarters.

"Not yet, my dears," Lucia said softly, "it isn't time. Here, Esther,
I will milk you first. You must all be good to-day, and Garibaldi, I
don't want you to go running away if I have to leave you with Beppi,"
she continued. "You're nothing but goats, of course, but you know
perfectly well that we are at war, and that you are very important, and
must do your part. Stop it, Miss, none of your pranks, I'm in a
hurry," she chided the refractory Esther for an attempt at playfulness.

"There now, that's enough, I can't carry any more or I would. Two
pails only half full aren't much, but they help, I guess. Now if it
won't rain until I get there it will be all right, but I'll cover the
pails to be on the safer side." She found two covers and fitted them
securely over the pails. "Now children, good-by. Be good till I come
back, and don't go making any noise."

She paused long enough to give Garibaldi a farewell pat and then left
the shed closing the door behind her. She looked up uneasily at the
cottage, but everything seemed to be very still, so she picked up her