The child’s beautiful face wore a smile of demure satisfaction as Tato bowed respectfully to the young Americans.

Kenneth winked at Beth from behind the visitor’s back.

“As you have a guest,” he remarked, with a yawn that was somewhat rude, “I shall now go and take my nap.”

“What, do you sleep so early in the day, you lazy-bones?” asked Patsy, brightly.

“Any time, my dear, is good enough for an overworked artist,” he replied.  “Au revoir, my cousins.  See you at luncheon.”

With this he strolled away, and when he had gone Beth said to Tato: 

“Won’t you sit down, signorina?”

“Do you mean me?” asked the child, as if surprised.

“Yes; I can see plainly that you are a girl.”

“And a pretty one, too, my dear,” added Patsy.

Tato blushed as if embarrassed, but in a moment smiled upon the American girls.

“Do you think me immodest, then?” she asked, anxiously.

“By no means, my dear,” Beth assured her.  “I suppose you have an excellent reason for wearing boys’ clothes.”

“So I have, signorina.  I live in the mountains, where dresses catch in the crags, and bother a girl.  And my father has always been heart-broken because he had no son, and likes to see me in this attire.  He has many errands for me, too, where a boy may go unnoticed, yet a girl would attract too much attention.  This is one of the errands, signorini.  But now tell me, if you please, how have you decided to answer the letters of Signor Merrick and Signor Ferralti?”

“Oh, there was but one way to answer them, Tato,” replied Beth, composedly.  “We have sent Mr. Watson and our cousin Louise Merrick to Messina to get the money.  If our friends in America act promptly Mr. Watson and Louise will return by to-morrow afternoon’s train, and be prepared to make the payment.”

“That is well, signorina,” responded Tato.

“We are to give the money to you, I suppose?” said Patsy.

“Yes; I will return for it to-morrow afternoon,” answered the child, with business-like gravity.  Then she looked earnestly from one to the other of the two girls.  “You must act discreetly, in the meantime, you know.  You must not talk to anyone, or do anything to imperil your uncle’s safety.”

“Of course not, Tato.”

“I beg you not, signorini.  The uncle is a good man, and brave.  I do not wish him to be injured.”

“Nor do we, Tato.”

“And the young man is not a coward, either.  He has been kind to me.  But he is sad, and not so pleasant to talk with as the uncle.”

“True enough, Tato,” said Beth.

Patsy had been examining the child with curious intentness.  The little one was so lovely and graceful, and her voice sounded so soft and womanly, that Patsy longed to take her in her arms and hug her.

“How old are you, dear?” she asked.

Tato saw the friendly look, and answered with a smile.