"Father is rather disagreeable this morning," she asserted in a sharp voice, when they were on the highway to Sorrento. "He his decision to let me go with you and almost forbade me. But I rebelled, and——" she paused; "I have found that when I assert myself I can usually win my way, for father is a coward at heart."
It pained Mary Louise to hear so unfilial a speech from the lips of a young girl. Colonel Hathaway's face showed that he, too, considered it unmannerly to a parent in the presence of strangers. But both reflected that Alora's life and environments were unenviable and that she had lacked, in these later years at least, the careful training due one in her station in society. So they changed the subject and led the girl to speak of Italy and its scenery and romantic history. Alora knew little of the country outside of the Sorrento peninsula, but her of nature was and true and she talked well and interestingly of the surrounding country and the and amusing customs of its inhabitants.
"How long do you expect to remain here?" asked Mary Louise.
"I've no idea," was the reply. "Father seems satisfied with our quarters, for he has no ambition in life beyond eating three simple meals a day, sleeping from nine at night until nine in the morning and reading all the romances he is able to . He corresponds with no one save his banker in America and sees no one but the servants and me. But to me the monotony of our existence is fast becoming and I often wonder if I can stand it for three years longer—until I'm eighteen. Then I shall be my own mistress and entitled to handle my own money, and you may rest assured I shall make up for lost time."
They let that remark pass, also, but later in the afternoon, when was over and the two girls were wandering in the lovely gardens of the Hotel Vittoria, while the Colonel indulged in an afternoon , Mary Louise led Alora to speak freely of her past life.
"My grandfather says that your mother must have left you a good deal of money," she remarked.
"Yes; mamma told me it was a large fortune and that I must guard it wisely and use it generously to help others less favored," replied Alora thoughtfully.
"And she left it all in your father's keeping?"
"Not the principal. That is all invested, and thank goodness my father cannot touch it in any way. But the income is paid to him regularly, and he may do as he pleases with it. I am sure mamma expected I would have every reasonable wish gratified, and be taught every womanly ; but I'm treated as a dependent. I'm almost of proper clothing—really, Mary Louise, this is the best dress I possess!—and I've been obliged to educate myself, making a rather poor job of it, I fear. I read the best of father's books, when he is done with them, and note carefully the manner in which the characters express themselves and how they conduct themselves in society as well as in worldly contact. I do not wish to be wholly gauché when I come into my kingdom, you see, and the books are my only . I don't care much for the stories, but some of the good writers are safe guides to follow in the matter of dialogue and deportment. Fortunately, father's books are all in English. He doesn't understand much Italian, although I have learned to speak the language like a native—like our native servants, you know."
Mary Louise reflected on this . "I'm afraid, Alora dear, that modern novels are not to teach morality, or to develop a girl's finer intuitions," she said gravely. "I think you express yourself very well—better than I do, indeed—but you need association with those who can convey to you the right principles of thought and thus encourage your mental development. Culture and seem to come more from association than from books, although there is an tendency in all well-born people to acquire them spontaneously. But there! you'll accuse me of preaching and, after all, I think you've done just splendidly under rather trying circumstances."
"You don't know how trying they are," declared Alora, with a sigh. "Father and I are wholly uncongenial and we fight on the slightest . This morning our trouble was over money. I wanted a little to take with me, for my purse hasn't a lira in it; but, no! not a centisimo would he give up. He insisted that if I was to be your guest you would pay all my expenses."
"Of course," said Mary Louise. "But what does he do with all that big income? Is he saving it for you?"
"No, indeed! he's saving it for himself. Mamma told me, the last time I saw her before she died, that if father was good to me, and kind and loving, I could provide for him in some way after I came into my money. She said she would leave the manner of it to my
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