“Cypress and ivy, weed and wall-flower grown,
    Matted and mass’d together; hillocks heap’d
    On what were chambers, arch crushed, column strewn
    In fragments; choked-up vaults, and frescoes steep’d
    In subterranean damps, where the owl peep’d
    Deeming it midnight.

“He used to love to repeat bits of poetry everywhere, just as Margery does.

“We climbed the Colosseum walls and sat there for hours dreaming of what it once was—­and so we went all over the city—­until I really think I lived in ancient Rome a part of the time.  Often did I weep over the tragic fate of Roman heroes and matrons as I was in the places sacred to their history, so deeply impressed was I by the reality of the past life of Rome.  I had not followed the erudite words of any interpreter of the ruins; I had not learned which was the particular pile of stones which marks the location of the palace of Tiberius, Augustus, or Septimius Severus; I could not even give name to all the various ruins of the Roman Forum, but old Rome was very real to me, and has been ever since.

“Now,” she continued, as she glanced at the interested faces about her, “we are here for a very short time, and it does seem much the best to both Robert and me that you should try to get Rome into your hearts first.  Don’t be one bit afraid to grow sentimental over her.  It is a good place in which to give ourselves up to sentiment.  We will take a guide for all that which seems necessary.  This one afternoon, however, up here, when you have learned the location of the seven hills and have clearly fixed in your minds the relative positions of the most important ruins and old buildings is, in my opinion, worth more than would be many afternoons spent in prowling through particular ruins; that is, for you.  Were we archaeological students, it would of course be a far different matter.”

“And we will at once resume our study of paintings,” said Mr. Sumner, drawing nearer.  “To-morrow morning, if Malcom has no engagement, we will go to the Sistine Chapel to see Michael Angelo’s frescoes.  I have been so busy until now that I could not get the time I wished for it.”

The next morning, as Barbara and Bettina were getting ready for the drive according to Mr. Sumner’s appointment, Bettina, who was vigorously brushing her brown suit, heard a sigh from her sister, and looking up saw her ruefully examining her own skirt.

“Rather the worse for wear, aren’t they, Barbara mia?”

“Indeed, they are.  I didn’t notice it, though, until we came here into this bright Rome.  We seem to have come all at once into spring sunshine and the atmosphere of new clothes; and, Betty, I believe I do feel shabby.  I know you have been thinking the same thing, too; for everybody else seems to have new spring dresses, and they are so fresh and pretty that ours look doubly worse.  Oh, dear!” and she sighed again.