"You have seen my country, Miss Kitty! Ah! counterio joyoso, would I might behold it! Italy, Miss Kitty! you have seen Italy? "Yes, Mr. Jordano, Mother and I spent last winter in Italy." "Ah! happy, happy--that is--" Mr. Jordano recollected himself, and changed his look of rapture for one of sympathy-- "tender reminiscences! tender is the word. I shall take great pleasure in waiting upon you, Miss Kitty. It has occurred to me that you might-tite-tite--that you might be willing to contribute some Sketches of Travel to the _Centinel_. They would be eagerly welcomed, eagerly welcomed, by all Cyrus and adjoining towns: the _Centinel_, you may be aware, has a considerable circulation. Our editorials are copied--nimporto! but if you could give me some sketches, Miss Kitty, I should regard it as a choice boon. No laborioso, you understand; nothing that would burden your--a--elegant leisure: a scratch of the pen, a scratch of the pen! the light feminine touch. It would indeed be a choice boon. The honorarium--we could arrange at a later date-tate-tate. I should wish to be lib----" "Oh, Mr. Jordano," cried downright Kitty, "I never wrote a word in my life, except just letters, and very few of them. Why, I _couldn't!_ and as for writing for a newspaper--you take my breath away! But it's just as kind of you!" she cried. "I am ever so much obliged, Mr. Jordano. I wish I could, but I truly could not. I know I couldn't." "Not at all! not at all!" Mr. Jordano was still bland, in spite of his evident disappointment. "The modesty of the sex, Miss Kitty. Perhaps you will be good enough to think it over. A--here we are at Judge Peters's, and I will leave you. I shall give myself the pleasure of calling--ah! good day-tay-tay!" And the good gentleman bowed himself off, having, indeed, stolen precious minutes from what he called the Ideals of Italio, his special contribution to the weekly _Centinel_. Judge Peters, like Madam Flynt, was evidently expecting Kitty: as if every one in Cyrus were not! The office windows were as dusty as ever--Kitty half expected to see an inscription on them in a round childish hand: "Tom-mee, Duke of Lee." --but his desk was a miracle of tidiness. His own person was not more carefully attired than usual, because that would have been difficult: he was the picture of a dignified jurist as he sat with his hand in the breast of his coat, reading a law book of appalling size and weight. His thin, somewhat austere countenance relaxed at sight of Kitty. He rose and came forward with extended hands, grasping hers cordially. "My dear child! welcome again! My dear Kitty, I am heartily glad to see you." He was: they all were: never was such a welcome, thought Kitty; another band snapped, and she looked up into the kindly face with a smile that was almost merry. "Dear Judge Peters! you are so good; everybody is so good. Never was such a home-coming--"