Cheerful—By Request

lavour. Dickens did it, and Dante. It has been tried all the way from Tasso to Twain; from Raskin to Roosevelt. A pleasing custom it is and thrif

rnest and good. And wedded, be it understood, to her art-preferably painting or singing. From New York! Her name must be something prim, yet winsome. Lois will do-Lois, la belle Américaine. Then the hero-American too. Madly in love with Lois. Tall he is and

But the food! Ah, the-whadd'you-call'ems-in the savoury sauce, that is Henri's secret! The tender, broiled poularde, done to a turn! The bottle of red wine! Mais oui; there one can dine under the watchf

! Enter David. Bon! Oh, David, take me away! Take me back to dear old Schenect

l of a bird or a signal? His-s-s-st! Again! A black cape; the flash of steel in the moonlight; t

hat is-in black velvet bodice, white chemisette, scarlet skirt with two rows of black ribbon at the bottom, and one yellow braid over the sh

, which not even the enervating Italian sun, the years of bad Italian food or the damp and dim little Roman room had been able to sallow. Mary Gowd, with her shabby blue suit and h

Cicerone. Certificated and Licensed Lecturer

. They perch at the top of the Capitoline Hill, ready to pounce on you when you arrive panting from your climb up the shallow steps. The

his credentials, greasy, thumb-worn documents, but precious. He glances at your shoes-this insinuating one-or at your hat, or at any of those myriad signs

an for an outlander-with the hate of an Italian for a woman who works with her brain-with the hate of an Italian who sees another taking the bread out of his mouth. All this, co

in Rome runs like melodrama. And Mary herself, from her white cotton gloves, darned at the fingers, to her figure, which mys

, shorn of all floral features, may ga

o blowsiness at thirty. Since seventeen she had saved and scrimped and contrived for this modest Roman holiday. She had given painting lessons-even painted on loathsome china-

d pardons! Ah, an artist too? In five minutes they were chattering like mad-she in bad French and exquisite English; he in bad English and exquisite Fre

ree months later when he left her quite as casually as he had met her, taking with him the l

's breast in those days. She would sit in the great galleries for hours, staring at the wonder-works. Then, one day, again

speak

glish,"

hat of the fussy l

is this ceili

sped Mary Gow

ly, she gave th

And this guide"-she waved a hand in the direction of a rapt little group standing in the agonising posit

ary Gowd made a place f

her pain in unfolding to this commonplace little w

rantic finger, "how beautifully you explain it! How much you know! Oh, why can't t

ave helped you,"

icans who would give anything to have so

She stared fixedly at the gratef

one li

eacher blush

Of course you don't need to do any such

stood up, her cheeks pink again for the moment,

e!" faltered

ugh the vestibule, down the splendid corridor, past the g

read and studied and learned. She delved into the past and brought up strange and interesting truths. She could tell you weird stories of those white marble men who lay so peacefully beneath St. Peter's d

ped B.C.; and the Magnificent Augustus, he who boasted of finding Rome brick

nd and the scandals of half a dozen kings with the other. No ruin was too unimportant for her attention-no picture too faded for her research. She

ile Italian epithets that her American or English clients quite failed to understand. Quite unconcernedly she would jam down the lever of the taximeter the wily Italian cabby had pulled only halfway so that the meter might registe

disgust for Italian meat since first she saw the filthy carcasses, fly-in

ed-eyed baby of the cobbler's wife, who lived in the rear. She was too tired to ask Tina for the letters that seldom came. It had been a particularly trying day, spent with a party of twenty Ger

ry brushes, pans or babies lying about. After the warmth of the March sun outdoors

" she

a moment, eyes shut. In that little room the roar of Rome was tamed to a dull humming. Mary Gowd, born and bred amid the green of Northern England, had never become hardened to the maddening noises of the Via Babbuino: The rattle and clatter of cab wheels; the clack-clack of thousands of iron-shod hoofs; the shrill, high cry of the street venders; the blasts of motor horns that seemed to rend the

ked about with a little shiver. Then she sank into the chintz-covered chair that was the one bit of England in the sombre chamber. She took off the dusty black v

n the doorway. There was nothing picturesque about Tina. Tina was not one of those olive-tinted, melting-eyed daughters of Italy that one meets in fiction. Looking at her yel

d! Not at all, Mary Gowd assured her briskly. She kne

ockingly. Her Italian was like that of the Rom

rously, her long

ue clinging lovingly to the d

That eternal veal and mutton

demanded the

up, making gestu

a steak-a real steak of real beef, three inches thick and covered with onions fried in butter. And creamed chicken, a

ppeared in her shoulders. Her

h!" said the shoulde

pushed aside a screen and busied h

aid over her shoulder in Italian.

grant

Then, as Tina's flapping feet

years ago Mary Gowd would have raged. Now she shrugged philosophic shoulders. Tina stole hairpins, opened letters that she could not hope to d

tter, bringing it close to the candl

again at the hotel letterhead on the stationery

ingered as she beat the om

oked like money-not Italian money, which is reckoned in lire, but American money, which mounts grandly to dollars. The postcard men in the Piazza delle Terme sped after their motor taxi. The swarthy brigand, with his wooden box of

r; with its two glistening bathrooms, and its Oriental rugs, and its laundry in the basement, and its Sunday fried chicken and ice cream, because t

d so bad as it might if Tweetie had been one whit less pretty. Tweetie was so amazin

a Roman striped collar and sash, and had learned to loll back in her cab in imitation of the dashing, black-eyed, sallow women she had seen driving on the Pin

the use? You can't take them back with

smartly dressed Mrs.

s at the club showing how they're torn fr

ie. "They're perfectly stunnin

dent is important; but it may serve to pl

Batavia, Illinois, Mrs. Gregg had heard of Mary Gowd. And Mary Gowd, with her knowledge of everything Roman-

Eleanora. We've heard such wonderful things of you f

ry Gowd. "A most charmi

e before the Women's West End Culture Club, of Batavia. We're affiliated

enry Gregg, "the lady can't

med Mary Gowd very viv

ough his cigar smoke wit

anyway. I know Tweetie here is dyin

, disdainful look at Mary Gowd's suit, hat, gloves and shoes

lmets and the swords? And the ones in dark-blue uniform with the maroon stripe at the side of the trou

hed a great, co

lady! I thought you acted kind of absent-minded." He

loody, religious, wanton, pious, thrilling, dreadful histor

ted little group centred about a very tall, very dashing, very black-mustachioed figure who wore a long pale blue cape thrown gracefully over one shoulder as only an Italian officer can wear su

. Blue Cape's black eyes saw it, even as he bent lo

's too bad you haven't a telephone.

Gowd, and glan

h too perfect a day to go poking

Seems the-er-Signor thinks it would be just the thing to take a

the Colosseum by moonlight!"

!" said

looked at

i, you see. I met a man from Chicago here at the hotel. He and I are going to chin awhile this morning. And Mrs.

aught his c

mom

Miss Eleanora will go to Tivoli and to th

g smiled i

We've got our own car at home in Batavia, but T

so that only Henry Gregg

ust one moment. I

l, w

y," whisper

tness seemed to convey

had chosen a seat a dozen paces away. "What's the trouble?" he asked jocularly. "Hope

t go alone,"

ut

This is Italy-this C

introduced to us last night. His f

fifteen years in Rome. Noble or not, Caldini is an Italian. I ask you"-she had clasped her hands and was

with Blue Cape looking down so eagerly into Tweetie's exquisite face and Tweetie looking up so raptly into

e chaperons in Europe-duennas, or whatever yo

d Caldini's shrug and sneer. There followed a little burst of conversation. Then, with a little frown which melted into a smile for Bl

regg, hand in pockets, cigar tilted, eyes narrowed, stood irresolutely in the centre of the great, g

've been fifteen

rs," answere

cigar from his mouth and

e fruit in Italy was regular hothouse stuff-thought the streets would just be lined with trees all hung with big, luscious oranges. But, Lord! Here we are at the best hotel in Rome, and the fruit is worse than the stuff the pushcart men at home feed to their families-little wizened bananas and oranges. S

be here with them

? N

silent fo

Henry Gregg again. "There's a lot of cul

me!" said

ared at her in

Hill don't you go

too many women in England already-too many half-starving shabby genteel. I earn enough to live on here-that is, I cal

regg st

come to America?" He w

rick-red chee

I save enough money to go to America I'll be an old woman and it will be too late. And if I did contrive to scrape together enough for my passage over I couldn't go t

Gregg, mystified. "What'

nd strains across the front, and is shiny at the seams. And my gloves! A

t woman," said

etorted Mary Gowd, "o

uted again at sight of Mary Gowd, but the pout cleared as Blue Cape, h

lent and shabbier than ever from the dust of the road; Blue Cape smiling; Tweetie fra

asked Ma Gregg, patting Tweetie's cheek and trying n

of people tramping about like buffaloes. Simply swarming with tourists-German ones. On

eyes, and the grim line was there about the mout

e said. "I am very tired

announced

ned swiftly t

aid Twee

Caldini in his careful English. "I cannot permit Signora Gowd to return home alone thr

matter-" began Hen

a protesting, w

ot perm

. The brick-red had quite faded from her cheeks. Then, with a nod, she t

acre. In silence he seated himself b

is very rich, like all Americans. And the little Eleanora! Bellissima! You must not stand in my way. It is not good." M

one's English sensibilities. Fifteen years of privation dulls one's moral sense. And money meant America. And little Tweetie Gregg had not lo

ry Gowd. He named a

-much

ther figure;

aper," said Mary Gowd, "an

f the way in silence. At h

marry her?" a

rugged eloqu

," he said q

th a stop at the Catacombs. Mary Gowd reached th

pile into one carriage?" b

uggest that we three"-she smiled on Henry Gregg and his wife-"take this larg

ssage from Blu

uld be nice!"

imate tales at her tongue's end. She seemed fairly to people those old ruins again with the men and women

ing the Baths of Caracalla, Tweetie even skipped ahea

y. "You make things sound so real. And-and I'm

ittle face it was, but very, very pretty, and exquisitely you

hen he says it-El-e-a-no-ra; like that. And aren't his kid

fted the slim, ringed little hand which lay wit

t the dowdy blue suit strained more than ever at its seams; and the line that had settled abo

ller cab but a dozen paces behind. Mary Gowd leaned forward. She began to speak-

said. "You must le

echoed the Greggs as th

ot shout like that. I

s for once. Henry Gregg laid one big hand on his w

get you,"

ight at him as she sa

ff into the gutter to allow a man to pass on the narrow sidewalk. You must take your pretty daughter and go away. To-night! No-let me finish. I will tell you what hap

ned to weep. Henry Gregg started up in the carriage, his fists white

Mary Gowd. She jerked

owly. Then he wet his l

entieth century and we're Americans, and

t would be in all the papers; and your pretty daughter would hang her head in shame forever." She put one hand on Henry Gregg's sleeve

Gregg, very grey-fa

d Henry Gregg, a

n her seat and shut h

Then she waved a gay hand at the carriage in t

r of Rome was hushed to a humming. She lighted a candle that stood on the table. Its dim light emphasized the gloom. She took off th

ers,

the bosom of her gown and drew o

er. Then, under Tina's startled gaze, she hel

hat you do?"

Gowd

heard of

nd-a million time!

up the ashes into a neat pile and held them in her hand,