Randolph, what mountain are we going over?"

"Going where?" the child demanded.

"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.

"I don't know," said Randolph. "I don't want to go to Italy.
I want to go to America."

"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.

"Can you get candy there?" Randolph loudly inquired.

"I hope not," said his sister. "I guess you have had enough candy,
and mother thinks so too."

"I haven't had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!"
cried the boy, still jumping about.

The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty
of the view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun
to perceive that she was not in the least embarrassed herself.
There had not been the slightest alteration in her charming complexion;
she was evidently neither offended nor flattered.
If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed not
particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner.
Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects
of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted,
she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then