are welcome, my friends; good luck!" below the message, and tucked the
paper back under the stone. Then with another curious look around,
which discovered nothing, she started back, this time running as fleet
and fast as any of her sure-footed little goats.

She reached home before either Nana or Beppino were awake, and hurried
to finish her milking. When the scant breakfast was over, she was
ready to start for town with her pails.

When she entered the market-place, it was to find a very different
scene from the one of the day before. The place was thronged with
soldiers, but they were not laughing and jesting; instead, little
groups congregated around the stalls and talked excitedly. Some of the
old women had covered their faces with their black aprons, and were
rocking back and forth on their chairs in an extremity of woe.

There was an unnatural hush, and men and women alike lowered heir
voices instinctively as they talked.

Lucia had seen the same thing many times before. She guessed, and
rightly too, that a battle was going on, and that news of some disaster
had reached the little town. She did not go at once to her aunt's
stall, but left her pails inside the big bronze door of the church, and
slipped quietly inside. The place was deserted, and the lofty dome was
in dark shadow. Long rays of pale yellow light from the morning sun
came through the narrow windows and made queer patches on the marble
floor. In the dim recesses of the little chapels tiny candles
flickered like stars in the dark.

Lucia looked about her to make sure that she was alone, and then walked