is, if it ever happened at all. But it 's as true, I've no doubt whatever, as the most important part of the story you 've brought fresh from Dempford."

What do you know about the Dempford Argonauts?" said Tilly, with puzzled surprise.

"A good deal; I should think I ought to! I've met some of them. And we can see their new clubhouse from our garden."

This was said as they were rising from the table. "Can you? Show it to me!" exclaimed Tilly. "I shall be delighted to,” replied Rush; and they went out together. "You see the top of that square building over the hill yonder? That's it, on the shore of the lake that makes in there."

"Is that indeed the Argonaut Club's new house?" said Tilly, greatly interested, and shading her eyes with her hand to get a better view.

"Yes," said Rush. "And here is something else you have heard of." He led her to the edge of the bank. “This is the willow-tree; and down there, you see the water pouring over something like a low board fence?"

THERESA started from the uncomfortable sleep into which she had fallen in her low seat by the bedside of her husband, Luigi.

She had been awakened by a stream of sunlight coming in at the window of her room, high up among the roofs of Rome.

It was only reflected sunlight, but it was all the sunshine that visited the room shut in by the high walls opposite.

Luigi was sleeping now, and more quietly than for many days. His fever was less, and the deep color seemed fading from his cheeks. Perhaps it was because he was no longer so restless that she had been able to fall into this unexpected sleep. But now she must rouse herself, indeed.

Across the foot of the bed lay her boy, fast asleep, too, and she moved quietly, that she might not wake him, for she must go out. The sun warned her that it was late. She had promised her little boy she would go the first thing in the morning for some bread. Before he finally cried himself to sleep, his last words had been: " Oh, Mother! when it is morning, if I lie still, will you give me some bread?" And at intervals through the night he had awakened to sob out his appeal. His words still echoed in her ears. They had formed part of her dreams in her uneasy sleep. She must hurry out, while both were quiet; she must find some bread. Find bread? How should she do it? She had spent her only remaining paoli for their last loaf of bread, and the poor, bare room could show how she had parted already with everything of value they had possessed.

She went to the window and looked out through the small bit of reflected sunlight. On a turn of the roof, not far along, was another window, jutting out from a row of buildings facing in another direction. Here was a little balcony, where real sunlight fell upon a few pots of plants, and a young girl had just come to the window, and was scattering some crumbs for the birds that were fluttering around.

"Crumbs of bread, crumbs of bread!" said Theresa to herself, as she looked greedily at the crust that the gay young girl held in her hand. Some of the crumbs fell far down into the court below. Theresa would have liked to stretch out her hands to catch them. But the birds lingered on the edge of the balcony and found a full share. "He careth for the sparrows," said Theresa to herself, as she turned back into the room and

Lying

looked at her sleeping husband and child. on the bare table was a faded rose that she had picked up from the pavement the last time she had been down into the streets. Theresa laid it across her boy Maso's hand. It would say to him that she was coming back. She had told him she would go for bread in the morning if he were still.

She stopped to speak to the padrona (or landlady) as she went down, to tell her that she had left them both alone, and would soon come back. But the padrona was very cross. She turned her back upon Theresa, and would have nothing to say to her, but muttered something as she shrugged her shoulders.

Theresa left, thinking it as well to be spared her angry words. She knew, indeed, that she could not depend upon her for help in the sick-room, for the woman dreaded contagion, was afraid to go near the sick man, and would have liked to have driven them all out of the house, and for some days had been threatening to do so.

The streets seemed damp and cold, as Theresa came down, and the high, blank stone walls along the narrow lanes were wet with mold. No wonder she hurried along to the more sunny squares and wider streets.

She had learned how to make her way through crowded passages, how to "blot" herself against the wall to make room for a passing mule or donkey, for she had had some months' experience in Rome.

How different it had all seemed when Luigi first brought her there- proud and delighted to show her his beautiful Rome!

For she was born far away, in a quiet Maine village. It was strange how Luigi had found his way there, but he had come with some of his compatriots to one of the larger towns to find work as a house-painter, and in the summer had strayed into the country. He fell in love with and married Theresa, because, as he always said, she bore his mother's name -though his mother would spell it without the "h" (Teresa). But Luigi had many other reasons to give, even if Theresa's blue eyes and golden hair had not been enough. Theresa never thought it necessary to tell her reasons for marrying Luigi. But when his summer's job was done, she willingly went with him to New York to find more work.

Here they lived happily enough many years.

But Luigi took a severe cold one December, and the doctors said he could not bear the changes of spring. He was himself very sure that Rome would cure him, and was glad to listen to their hopes of what his native air would do. So Luigi and Theresa took their little earnings and started on their way to Rome. They went first to Liverpool, where little Maso was taken ill, and the care of him used up a large portion of their small fortune. They drifted on to London, and here they found kind friends, and Luigi revived and had work.

They remained there till his cough came back, and then they set out again and went forward to Rome.

They arrived in the beautiful October weather, and Luigi's health improved directly and his spirits rose. He wanted Theresa to admire everythingeven these narrow streets, with their picturesque arches and door-ways, that now she found so gloomy; and she, too, rejoiced in the sun, and the blue sky, with sunsets like those at home. But Luigi found all his old friends scattered and gone; and as for relations, he had never had any to leave, so there were none to find. And then there seemed to be nothing he could do, and the cough came back, and their money was dwindling away. So they had to leave the sunny apartment where they had ventured to live at first, and be grateful at last for the little room up many stairs, darkened by the high walls opposite, that shut out even the sky. And this room their cross padrona grudged em. Happily, they had paid her in advance, and they could stay some weeks longer; but then what should they do?

Little Maso had been so considerate and thoughtful. He had not complained when their fare had grown less and less. The day before, she could give scarcely any thought to him-could not even remember when or what food he had eaten last, because for two days Luigi had been at times delirious, often in high fever, and she had not dared to leave his side a moment.

She would not have called in a doctor, even if she had had the money to pay him, for she knew how to take care of Luigi—her nursing was better than any doctor's care.

But food he must have when his fever should leave him, and Maso must have his bread, and where could she find it? All her money was gone; where should she go?

She had no knowledge of the streets of Rome save what she had learned from Luigi. Indeed, the Epistle of Paul to the Romans had been her earliest association with the old city, and one of

arrived, related to the Apostle. Where was Paul imprisoned, and where was the "hired house" in which he had lived two years?

Luigi could not tell her much about it, but he made some inquiries, and then took her to the small Church of Santa Maria, in Via Lata, said to be the actual house in which St. Paul lodged when in Rome. Theresa thought of this little subterranean church this morning. If this were indeed the first old, old church that ever was in Rome, ought there not to be Christians near who might help her in distress? She had never looked for American acquaintances in Rome, and would not know where to find Americans. Luigi's intercourse had been with his own people. And, indeed, even if she had known the name of some American minister or clergyman, she might have been too proud to ask for bread.

But something of the idea of the Christian Church came before her as she pondered-something prompted by the sight of the walls below the great dome of St. Peter's, in connection with the remembrance of that low church sunk beneath the pavement that might have been the church of St. Paul. She saw dimly a Christian Church that, after all, was neither of these, but a spiritual church with the majesty of the one and the simplicity of the other, and wide enough to welcome all the children of God. She did not think exactly this, but she dreamed of help that must come from some high source. As for human help, she had but one hope. A few days before he had been taken ill, Luigi had earned a little money by sitting as a model for some young artists he had met. They were a friendly set, but Theresa had not seen them since they had last moved.

One of them had wanted to have Maso sit for him some time-her pretty Maso, with his blue eyes and golden hair. Perhaps, if he would still like Maso to go to him, she could venture to ask directly for some money to buy bread.

Maso was looking a little wan now, but oh! what a pretty picture he made just as she left him.

She made her way then to the Piazza di Spagna, with its magnificent staircase leading to the Church of the Trinita del Monti, for here she might chance to meet some of the artists looking for a model.

It was a forlorn hope; but twice, when she had been here with Luigi, they had met with these young friends of his, and she knew they lived not far away.

Alas! she was too early for the artists. There was quite a crowd of people in the square, and some picturesque models were grouped on the stair-way of the church. She turned back toward