“Famously; a thousand thanks for the machine. All the cotton is made up. The parents now sleep between sheets; we others shall have that luxury soon.” The Countess and her daughters had worked early and late, making bed linen and underclothes of the cotton cloth sent by our committee. I asked Rosalia if there was any message for Bonanno. “Tell the Signor Avvocato that we are more fortunate than many--God has sent us friends,” she said. “Would the Signore have the infinite kindness to carry him a little notepaper, of the most miserable kind, a few envelopes? His last letter was written on a bit of paper torn from the wall. I am sure he has done everything--but if he would write to _mamina_ and set her mind at rest--tell her the graves are marked, that she will know in which each of them lies--Nonna, Maddelena, Nina?” “All this shall be related to the _avvocato_ without fail. Courage, _remember_, look forward, not back!” “_Altro!_ It is what I most desire.” Rosalia fought back the tears. We left her, smiling bravely, at her post beside the poor old paralyzed father. “Did you ever see a handsomer family?” I asked Vera as we walked away. “Rosalia is still fine, the next four are pretty as pinks, the two youngest real beauties. Which is that at the window? I can’t tell them apart.” “Not since they’ve begun to smile? That’s the youngest, Beatrice--watch for the dimple when she laughs.” “Wherever did she get that smart toggery?” “Some of you soft-hearted Americans! She was lovely in her big black hat, the latest fashion. Can any of them do anything to earn money?” “They could not earn a _centesimo_ among them all. The Count owned a lot of valuable real estate in Messina; they lived on their rents. In the end something surely will be saved; you can’t wipe out real estate. Such pretty girls are sure to marry.” “If you had only seen it all, you would understand--it’s chaos! It will take years, a generation perhaps, before things can be straightened out. Meanwhile ‘it is not always May.’” “But Beatrice and the other little one--They are lovely!” “Beauty is a poor _dote_--young kittens soon make old cats! No, _cara mia_, they have no chance. You Americans can’t understand: you are still primitive. The American carries off his wife as the Indian his squaw. You are at the natural selection stage.” “Well, we have been--“ “The man assumes the responsibility of the woman’s support?” “As a rule!” “It’s bad form for a man to ask a dowry or allowance from the girl’s father?” “The unpardonable sin.” “I know; my brother married an American. Her father gave her an allowance, but when she died he never offered to pay her funeral expenses--his own child. We thought this unfeeling--dreadful! Americans tell me it probably never occurred to him.” “We think it is far better for young people to make their own way,” I maintained.