to a close, for she never knew where his next work
might lie.

`Well,' said Filippo one night as he returned
home and caught up little Filippino in his arms,
`the picture for the nuns of San Ambrogio is finished
at last! Truly they have saints and angels enough
this time--rows upon rows of sweet faces and white
lilies. And the sweetest face of all is thine, Saint
Lucy, kneeling in front with thy hand beneath the
chin of this young cherub.'

`Is it indeed finished so soon?' asked Lucrezia, a
wistful note creeping into her voice.

`Ay, and to-morrow I must away to Spoleto to
begin my work at the Chapel of Our Lady. But
look not so sad, dear heart; before three months are
past, by the time the grapes are gathered, I will
return.'

But it was sad work parting, though it might only
be for three months, and even her little son could not
make his mother smile, though he drew wonderful
pictures for her of birds and beasts, and told her he
meant to be a great painter like his father when
he grew up.

Next day Filippo started, and with him went his
good friend Fra Diamante.