“Which you can’t,” old Nana interrupted shortly.  “Stop your talking and come in to supper.”

“Right away,” Lucia promised, and hurried off to shut up her goats in the small, half-tumbled-down shack at the back of the cottage.

Supper at the Rudinis consisted of boiled spaghetti, black bread and cheese, with a cup full of milk apiece.  It was not a very tempting meal, but Lucia was hungry and ate with a hearty appetite.

After the three bowls had been washed and put away in the cupboard, she helped her grandmother undress, and settled her comfortably in the green enameled bed with its brass trimmings, that occupied a good part of the small room.  Lucia’s mother had brought it with her from Naples, and it was the most cherished and admired article of furniture that the Rudinis owned.

“Are you comfortable, Nana?” Lucia inquired gently, as she smoothed the fat, hard pillows in an attempt to make a rest for the old gray head.

“Yes, go to bed, child,” Nana replied, and without more ado she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Lucia climbed up the ladder to the loft, and was soon cuddled down beside Beppi in a bed of fresh straw.  Though she persisted in her determination that her grandmother sleep in state in the best bed, she herself preferred a simple and softer resting place.

“Tell me a story,” Beppi demanded; “not about fairies and silly make believes, but about soldiers.”

“But there are no pretty stories about soldiers, Beppino mio,” Lucia protested.

“Who wants pretty stories!” Beppi replied scornfully. “I don’t—­tell me an exciting one about guns and war.”

“Very well I’ll try, but be still,” Lucia gave in, well knowing that she would not have to go very far.

“Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a soldier.  He had very big eyes, and he came from the south where the sun is very warm and the sky and the water are very, very blue.”

“Was he brave?” Beppi interrupted sleepily.

“Oh, yes, he was very brave,” Lucia replied hurriedly, “very brave, and he loved his country more than anything else in the world.”

She waited but Beppi’s voice commanded.

“Go on, don’t stop.”

“Well, one day he was sent to guard a gate of a city, and he walked up and down before it with his gun on his shoulders, and no one could pass him unless it was a friend.”

She paused again.  Beppi was breathing regularly.

“Old sleepy head!” Lucia whispered, and kissed him tenderly.

The story was not continued and before many minutes she was fast asleep herself.

It was an hour before sunrise when she awoke.  The air that found its way into the little attic was damp and chill.  Lucia crept out of bed, being very careful not to disturb Beppi, and slipped hurriedly into her clothes.  With her shoes in her hand, she climbed gingerly down the ladder past her sleeping grandmother and out to the shed.