So she is, and although my idea of the fitness of things is
somewhat unsettled when Peppina serves our dinner wearing a yoke
and sleeves of coarse lace with her blue cotton gown, and a bunch
of scarlet poppies in her hair, I can do nothing in the way of
discipline because Salemina approves of her as part of the picture.
Instead of trying to develop some moral sense in the little
creature, Salemina asked her to alternate roses and oleanders with
poppies in her hair, and gave her a coral comb and ear-rings on her
birthday. Thus does a warm climate undermine the strict virtue
engendered by Boston east winds.

Francesco--Cecco for short--is general assistant in the kitchen,
and a good gondolier to boot. When our little family is increased
by more than three guests at dinner, Cecco is pressed into dining-
room service, and becomes under-butler to Peppina. Here he is not
at ease. He scrubs his tanned face until it shines like San
Domingo mahogany, brushes his black hair until the gloss resembles
a varnish, and dons coarse white cotton gloves to conceal his work-
stained hands and give an air of fashion and elegance to the
banquet. His embarrassment is equalled only by his earnestness and
devotion to the dreaded task. Our American guests do not care what
we have upon our bill of fare when they can steal a glance at the
intensely dramatic and impassioned Cecco taking Pina into a corner
of the dining-room and, seizing her hand, despairingly endeavour to
find out his next duty. Then, with incredibly stiff back, he
extends his right hand to the guest, as if the proffered plate held
a scorpion instead of a tidbit. There is an extra butler to be
obtained when the function is a sufficiently grand one to warrant
the expense, but as he wears carpet slippers and Pina flirts with
him from soup to fruit, we find ourselves no better served on the