The children were walking now between two rows of laurel-trees. "How dark and glossy the leaves are," said Lucy. "I think they are lovely. I like to get them and make wreaths. Then I take them up-stairs and put them on father's and mother's heads. I pretend I am crowning them as the heroes in Italy were crowned long ago." Lucy forgot her Italian and fell into English before she had half finished. It was no wonder that Tessa and Beppo could not understand. Arthur saw the puzzled look in their faces and tried to explain. He was older than his sister and could speak Italian better than she. "Lucy means this: I suppose you know that your country was once very great." Beppo nodded his head. Oh, yes, and he believed it to be very great, still. "And Rome was the leading city in the whole wide world," Arthur went on. "Great deeds were done by her people; great battles were fought; great books were written; great palaces were built. Well, in the olden times, whenever a person had done some truly great thing, he was crowned with a wreath of laurels. Father told me this, so I know it must be true. "But come, I am afraid your father will be waiting for you. I didn't notice how fast the time was going." They hurried back to the house. There, to be sure, were Pietro and his master. It had been a fine day. The fruit was all sold for a good price, and their father was eager to hear how the time had passed with his children. "Oh, babbo, babbo, they were so kind, those good Americans. And I am very happy," said Tessa. She said this softly as she leaned over the donkey's side to pat her father's face while they were on the way home. "The little girl (her name is Lucy, babbo,) did not seem to notice my bare feet and darned frock. She held my hand a long time, and I know I shall love her." CHAPTER III. THE STORY OF ÆNEAS DAY after day Tessa and Beppo travelled over the road to Rome with their father. They were always happy, always gentle, always merry. The artist and his family grew to love the children and wish they could do something to make their lives easier. "They are so poor," Lucy told her brother one night, "that they eat meat only at great times, like Christmas. It costs too much for them to buy it every day as mother does. But they have plenty of fruit. I think the delicious figs and apricots that grow here in this country make up for a good deal of meat. And their mother makes salads of all kinds of vegetables. Perhaps they don't miss the meat as long as they are not used to eating it as we are." "How did you know about their food?" asked Lucy's mother, who happened to hear what she said.