"Yes, she seems perfectly well again, and as strong as before she had the fever, though that dear old Goody Swift is just as careful of her as ever. She would not let us bring her here this afternoon, for fear we should stay out till the dew fell. Ned, it is perfectly delightful that you were able to come. It makes going to Venice seem quite a different thing, doesn't it, Katy?" "I don't want it to seem quite different, because going to Venice was always one of my dreams," replied Katy, with a little laugh. "I hope at least it doesn't make it seem less pleasant," said Mr. Worthington, as his sister stopped to pick a violet. "No, indeed, I am glad," said Katy; "we shall all be seeing it for the first time, too, shall we not? I think you said you had never been there." She spoke simply and frankly, but she was conscious of an odd shyness. "I simply couldn't stand it any longer," Ned Worthington confided to his sister when they were alone. "My head is so full of her that I can't attend to my work, and it came to me all of a sudden that this might be my last chance. You'll be getting north before long, you know, to Switzerland and so on, where I cannot follow you. So I made a clean breast of it to the Commodore; and the good old fellow, who has a soft spot in his heart for a love-story, behaved like a brick, and made it all straight for me to come away." Mrs. Ashe did not join in these commendations of the Commodore; her attention was fixed on another part of her brother's discourse. "Then you won't be able to come to me again? I sha'n't see you again after this!" she exclaimed. "Dear me! I never realized that before. What shall I do without you?" "You will have Miss Carr. She is a host in herself," suggested Ned Worthington. His sister shook her head. "Katy is a jewel," she remarked presently; "but somehow one wants a man to call upon. I shall feel lost without you, Ned." The month's housekeeping wound up that night with a "thick tea" in honor of Lieutenant Worthington's arrival, which taxed all the resources of the little establishment. Maria was sent out hastily to buy _pan forte da Siena_ and _vino d'Asti_, and fresh eggs for an omelette, and chickens' breasts smothered in cream from the restaurant, and artichokes for a salad, and flowers to garnish all; and the guest ate and praised and admired; and Amy and Mabel sat on his knee and explained everything to him, and they were all very happy together. Their merriment was so infectious that it extended to the poor giantess, who had been very pensive all day at the prospect of losing her good place, and who now raised her voice in the grand aria from "Orfeo," and made the kitchen ring with the passionate demand "Che faro senza Eurydice?" The splendid notes, full of fire and lamentation, rang out across the saucepans as effectively as if they had been footlights; and Katy, rising softly, opened the kitchen door a little way that they might not lose a sound.