"No! I'm too big for that. I whistle." "I _know_ I shall like you, because you are brave!" cried the impetuous voice, with its pretty accent; and then an orange came tumbling through the hole, as if the new acquaintance longed to do something to help the "ache." "Isn't that a rouser! I do love 'em, but mother can't afford 'em often." And Johnny took one delicious taste on the spot. "Then I shall give you many. We have loads at home, much finer than these. Ah, you should see our garden there!" "Where do you live?" Johnny ventured to ask; for there was a homesick sound to the voice as it said those last words. "In Rome. Here we only stay a year, while papa arranges his affairs; then we go back, and I am happy." "I should think you'd be happy in there. It looks real splendid to me, and I've been longing to see it ever since I could come out." "It's a dull place to me. I like better to be where it's always warm, and people are more beautiful than here. Are _you_ beautiful?" "What queer questions she does ask!" And poor Johnny was so perplexed he could only stammer, with a laugh,-- "I guess not. Boys don't care for looks." "Peep, and let me see. I like pretty persons," commanded the voice. "Don't she order round?" thought Johnny, as he obeyed. But he liked it, and showed such a smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay was pleased to say, after a long look at him,-- "No, you are not beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you look pleasant, so I don't mind the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of your face. I think you are good. I am sorry for you, and I shall lend you a book to read when the pain comes." "I couldn't wait for that if I had a book. I do _love_ so to read!" And Johnny laughed out from sheer delight at the thought of a new book; for he seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and too helpless to enjoy the free libraries of the city. "Then you shall have it _now_." And there was another quick rush in the garden, followed by the appearance of a fat little book, slowly pushed through the hole in the wall. "This is the only one that will pass. You will like Hans Andersen's fairy tales, I know. Keep it as long as you please. I have many more." "You're so good! I wish I had something for you," said the boy, quite overcome by this sweet friendliness. "Let me see one of _your_ books. They will be new to me. I'm tired of all mine." Quick as a flash, off went the cover of the old boiler, and out came half-a-dozen of Johnny's best works, to be crammed through the wall, with the earnest request,-- "Keep 'em all; they're not good for much, but they're the best I've got. I'll do some prettier ones as soon as I can find more nice pictures and pieces." "They look very interesting. I thank you. I shall go and read them now, and then come and talk again. Addio, Giovanni." "Good-by, Miss."