What the Ambassador could not do, the Ambassadress had done. Besides the dainty cradle, the blankets, jackets and other baby luxuries such as neither Lucia nor Agnese had ever dreamed of, there was a little knitted shawl for poor old Rosina, and good warm dresses for the plumber’s wife and mother. Agnese was right; the pretty baby finery belonged to the little son born to the Ambassador during his first months of office in Rome. There is a story that the King, on being told that Mrs. Griscom could not be present at some official reception on account of her baby, exclaimed in astonishment: “I never before have heard of an Ambassadress with a baby!” The time had come when the King, the colony, all concerned were thankful that the American Ambassador and Ambassadress were young people, with strong young nerves and generous young hearts. “Send for Napoleone,” I cried to Agnese. Napoleone the cabman can only be reached through the connivance of a clerk of Fasani, the grocer in the Piazza de Spagna. Napoleone is very “black” and has the superior manners of the “clericals.” By the time I had my bonnet on, Agnese announced to me that Napoleone was at the door. When we appeared on the sidewalk he was deep in the Popolo Romano, the Vatican organ which he reads so faithfully that J. says he often loses a fare from being too much engrossed in his newspaper. “To the house in the Via Lamarmora where you took me the other day to visit those unfortunate _profughi_,” I said. “It appears to me, Signora, that they have become very fortunate people,” said Napoleone, making room for the cradle beside him. He whipped up his strawberry roan, a horse with an action like a crab’s, as unique a figure in our Rome as his driver. Napoleone’s eyes were very kind when he helped me out with the cradle and the big bundle of clothes. “I will wait for you, Signora, at my own cost, one understands. _Diamini!_ we must all do something for these unfortunate _profughi_.” Napoleone smoothed out the Popolo Romano, put a nosebag of fodder over the roan’s head and prepared to wait for me, at his own expense! When the porter’s wife looked out from her little den and saw the big bundle, she put down the dish of _carciofi_ she was preparing for her husband’s dinner and came to the rescue. “_Per carità_, Signora, allow me to carry up that great big bundle; ask the _padrona_ to leave the door open till I come.”