always prosperous. Florence she found perfectly sweet,
Naples a dream, but very whiffy. In Rome one had simply to
sit still and feel. Philip, however, declared that she was
improving. He was particularly gratified when in the early
spring she began to visit the smaller towns that he had
recommended. "In a place like this," she wrote, "one really
does feel in the heart of things, and off the beaten track.
Looking out of a Gothic window every morning, it seems
impossible that the middle ages have passed away." The
letter was from Monteriano, and concluded with a not
unsuccessful description of the wonderful little town.

"It is something that she is contented," said Mrs.
Herriton. "But no one could live three months with Caroline
Abbott and not be the better for it."

Just then Irma came in from school, and she read her
mother's letter to her, carefully correcting any grammatical
errors, for she was a loyal supporter of parental
authority--Irma listened politely, but soon changed the
subject to hockey, in which her whole being was absorbed.
They were to vote for colours that afternoon--yellow and
white or yellow and green. What did her grandmother think?

Of course Mrs. Herriton had an opinion, which she
sedately expounded, in spite of Harriet, who said that
colours were unnecessary for children, and of Philip, who
said that they were ugly. She was getting proud of Irma,
who had certainly greatly improved, and could no longer be
called that most appalling of things--a vulgar child. She