Marcia, having outlined her plan for the breakfast to a somewhat unresponsive Pietro, finally gained her room; and setting her candle down on the table, she dropped into the first chair she came to with a sigh of relief that the evening was over. She was tired, not only in body, but in mind as well. The evening was not quite ended, however. A gentle tap came on the door, and she opened it to find Eleanor and Margaret in loose silk dressing-gowns. ‘Let us in quick,’ said Margaret. ‘We’ve just met a man in the hall.’ ‘The ubiquitous Pietro shutting up windows,’ added Eleanor. ‘If I were you, I’d discharge that man and get a more companionable butler. It’s uncanny for an Italian servant to be as grave as an English one.’ ‘Poor Pietro has just had a scolding, which, I suppose, accounts for his gravity. It’s funny,’ she added, ‘that’s exactly the advice that Paul gave me to-night.’ The ‘Paul’ was out before she could catch it, and she reddened apprehensively, but the girls let it pass without challenging. ‘We’ve come to talk,’ said Margaret, possessing herself of the couch and settling the cushions behind her. ‘I hope you’re not sleepy.’ ‘_Very_,’ said Marcia; ‘but I dare say I shan’t be ten minutes from now.’ ‘You needn’t worry; this isn’t going to be an all-night session,’ drawled Eleanor from the lazy depths of an easy-chair. ‘We start at nine for the Madonna’s festa.’ ‘You’d better appreciate us now that you’ve got us,’ added Margaret. ‘We should by rights have slept in Rome to-night.’ ‘How did you manage it?’ ‘Paul took mamma down to the Forum to look at some inscriptions they’ve just dug up; and while she was gone Eleanor and I scrambled around and packed the trunks for Perugia. By the time she came back we had everything ready to come out here, and our hats on waiting to start. She didn’t recover her breath until we were in the train, and then she couldn’t say anything before Mr. Copley. When it comes to starting on Journeys,’ Margaret added, ‘mamma is not what you’d call impulsive.’ ‘Not often,’ assented Eleanor; ‘but there have been instances. By the way,’ she added, ‘I wish you’d explain about Mr. Sybert; I confess I don’t quite grasp his standing in the family. How do you come to be taking such lengthy horseback rides with a young man and no groom? You never did that when my mother was chaperoning you.’ ‘No,’ acquiesced Marcia; ‘I didn’t. But Mr. Sybert’s a little different. He’s not exactly a young man, you know; he’s a friend of Uncle Howard’s. He happened to be available this afternoon, and Angelo didn’t happen to be, so he came instead.’ ‘As a sort of sub-groom?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I should think he might object to the position.’ ‘He couldn’t help himself!’ she laughed. ‘Aunt Katherine forced him into it.’ Eleanor regarded Marcia with a still puzzled smile. ‘You talk about Mr. Sybert as if he were a contemporary of your grandfather. How old is he, may I ask?’