“And can these be the little Barbara and Betty who used to sit on my knees?” he asked in wonder, as Mrs. Douglas drew forward the tall girls that they might share in his greeting.

“I thought I knew you, but am afraid we shall have to get acquainted all over again.”

The following morning when, after breakfast, the young people had been put into a carriage for a drive all about the city, Mrs. Douglas had a long conversation with her brother.  He told her of the pleasant home in Florence which he had prepared for her, and some of his plans for the coming months.

“But will not the care of so many young people be too much for you, my sister?  Have you counted well the cost of added thought and care which our dear Doctor’s daughters will impose?  Tell me about them.  Are they as sterling as their father and mother?  I must believe they are neither giddy nor headstrong, else you would never have undertaken the care of them.  Moreover, their faces contradict any such supposition.  They are beautiful and very attractive; but are just at the age when every power is on the alert to have its fill of interest and enjoyment.  Did you notice how their eyes sparkled as they took their seats in the carriage and looked out upon the strange, foreign sights?”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Douglas.  “We must do all we can for them that this visit to the Old World shall be as truly a means of culture as their parents desire.  You know I wrote you that it is difficult for the Doctor to afford it, but that he felt so earnestly the good that such an opportunity must bring his girls that he could not bear to refuse it.  As for me, I love Barbara and Betty dearly and delight to care for them as for my own.  Their influence is wholesome, and our little Margery loves them as if they were indeed sisters.  I have thought much about what is best for all our young people to do during the coming months in Italy.  Of course everything they see and hear will be an education, but I think we ought to have some definite plan for certainly a portion of their time.  I have wished to talk to you about it.

“‘Help my daughters to study,’ said Dr. Burnett, and his feeling has given me new thoughts regarding my own children.  Now there is one great field of study into which one can enter in this country as nowhere else—­and this is art.  Especially in Florence is the world of Italian painting opened before us—­its beginnings and growth.  Ought we not to put all of them, Barbara, Bettina, Malcom, and Margery into the most favorable conditions for entering upon the study of this great subject, which may prove a source of so much enjoyment and culture all their lives?  I well remember my own wonder and pleasure when, years ago, our dear mother called my attention to it; and how much it has been to both you and me!  You can help me here, Robert, for this is so much a part of your own life.”

“I will think it all over, sister, and we will see what we can do.  As for me, I am too happy just now in having you and the children with me to give thought to anything else.  So talk to me to-day of nothing but your own dear selves.”