"Undoubtedly they are right, Giusippe, for the roughness in the ancient mosaics would, of course, break up the great plain surfaces and make them more interesting. But Salviati did Venice a service, nevertheless, in reviving the art. And there is, too, another virtue about mosaics, and that is that they will endure far longer than paintings. Had it not been for the foresight of Pope Urban, who between 1600 and 1700 had many of the famous pictures of the Vatican copied in mosaic, these masterpieces would have been lost to the world." "I have been told that the church in Ravenna has some fine mosaics, but I never have seen them," Giusippe ventured. "I have. They are beautiful, and I hope you may see them some time. Then there are others scattered through the various churches of Sicily and Rome; and there are also many beautiful inlays of mosaic decorating the old churches and palaces of European cities. When we visit Westminster Abbey, Jean, I must show you the crude early mosaic work on the tomb of Edward the Confessor. It is very curious, for it is made of pieces of colored glass set in grooves of marble." "How much you are to see, senorita," observed Giusippe wistfully. Mr. Cabot fixed his eyes attentively on the boy. "Should you, too, like to see all these wonders, Giusippe?" he asked half playfully and half in earnest. But Giusippe, who did not catch the banter in his tone, answered seriously: "Should I? Ah, senor, it is not for me to envy or be unhappy about that which I may not have. Some day, perhaps, when I have made my fortune in your country I can return to the old world and see its marvels. I must have a little patience, that is all." The mingling of sadness and longing in the reply touched Uncle Bob; Jean and the young Venetian chattered on, but Mr. Cabot walked silently ahead, deep in thought. "Did I understand you to say, Giusippe," he asked at last turning abruptly, "that you have no relatives in Venice?" "None in all the world with the exception of the uncle in America of whom I told you, senor." Again there was a pause. "Suppose I were to take you with us." "What, senor?" "Take you with us now, when we leave Venice." "I do not understand." "Suppose I asked you to go with us to France and England, and then across to America." "But I have not enough money, senor." "I haven't much, either," Mr. Cabot answered, smiling kindly into the boy's puzzled eyes. "Still, I think I could get together a sufficient sum to pay your way until you got to the United States and found work." "To go--to go with you now, do you mean, senor?"