"She, too, is off having a good time. Fräulein was invited by some German friends who were giving a _Kinder-sinfonie_. Awful things, if you want my opinion. She asked if she might go and take Lily, and the poor child was so eager about it I thought I would just for once let her sit up late. She has so few pleasures of the kind." Mrs. Foss had helped the soup, with a ladle, out of a tureen. It was after her husband and she had emptied their soup-plates in companionable silence that, leaning back to wait for the next course, she asked her regular daily question. "Well, anything new? Anything interesting at the consulate?" Mr. Foss seemed in good faith to be searching his mind. Then he answered vaguely: "No; nothing in particular." All at once he smiled a smile of remembrance. "Yes, I saw some Americans to-day." He nodded, after an interval, with an appearance of relish. "The real thing." "In what way, Jerome? But, first of all, who were they?" "Wait a moment. I stuck their cards in my pocket to show you. They came to see me at the consulate. No, they are in my other coat. One of them was Mrs. Something Hawthorne, the other Miss Estelle Something." "What did they want?" "Everything--quite frankly everything. They have grown tired of their hotel; they speak nothing but English and don't know a soul. They came to find out from me how to go about getting a house and servants, horses and carriage." "Did they think that was part of a consul's duty?" "They didn't think. They cast themselves on the breast of a fellow-countryman. They caught at a plank." "A house, horses. They are rich, then." "So one would judge. Oh, yes, they're rich in a jolly, shameless, old-fashioned American way." "Well, it's a nice way." Mrs. Foss added limitingly: "When they're also generous. One has noticed, however, hasn't one,"--she seemed on second thought to be taking back something of her approval,--"a certain reticence, as a rule, with regard to the display of wealth in people of any real culture?" "These aren't, my dear. It's as plain as that they're rich. And, for a change, let me whisper to you, I found it pleasant. Not one tiresome word about art did they utter in connection with this, their first, visit to Italy." "I can see you liked them, but what you have so far said doesn't entirely help me to see why. Rich and ignorant Americans, unfortunately--A light breaks upon me! They were pretty!" A twinkle came into the consul's eyes, looking over at his wife, as one is amused sometimes by a joke old and obvious. His pause before answering seemed filled with an effort to visualize the persons in question. "Upon my word, Etta, I couldn't tell you." He laughed at his inability. "By that token they were not beauties," said the wife. "It seems likely you are right. At the same time"--he was still mentally regarding his visitors--"one would never think of wishing them other than they are." "Describe them if you can. What age women?"