Tessa, Our Little Italian Cousin

No matter how poor the person was, some little bit was given with a right good will. It was but a symbol of the love and friendship of these simple peasants for each other.

When Mr. Gray's turn came, he hid in the baby's dress a piece of money so big as to make his mother's eyes open with delight when it was shown her afterward. She had never before seen a gold coin worth ten dollars in her life.

The christening party now turned back to the house, where the mother lay waiting for them. The feast was all spread and the visitors gathered around the table with good appetites. Lucy and Arthur and their parents stayed, for Tessa's father looked quite hurt when they spoke of going home.

"Not stop to share our feast!" he cried. "Ah! that is sad! sad!"

And so they remained and took part in the merrymaking. Some of the villagers played on their bagpipes. Tessa performed a very pretty dance, and Beppo sang two songs with his rich, soft voice.

"We have had a lovely time," said Lucy, as the beautiful colours began to light the sunset sky, and her father bade her get ready to leave. "But we wish Tessa and Beppo to come home and stay with us another week. Don't we, father?"

Mr. Gray answered, "Yes, we should like it very much. After my holiday, I must paint quite steadily, and I wish to finish the picture of Tessa and Beppo at once. It would not be easy for you to bring the children to me every day now that your wife is sick. So please let them go back with us."

This was how Tessa and Beppo came to go back to Rome with the family of the artist. The carriage was a little crowded, but no one cared. All were so busy laughing and talking that it seemed only a few minutes before they drew near the city gates.

"I believe it was not far from here that Agrippa told the people the fable so often repeated since that time."

The painter was looking out of the carriage over the Campagna.

"I wish I knew the exact spot," he said, half to himself.

"Tell us about it; do, please, father," said Lucy. "What was the fable, and who was Agrippa, and why did he come out on this dreary place to tell a story?"

"It was a long time ago; even long before the birth of Jesus," Mr. Gray replied. "It was when Rome was a powerful city. There were two great classes of the people, – the patricians, who were rich and owned most of the land, and the plebeians, who had little power and were mostly poor.

"The patricians ruled the city to suit themselves and did not treat the plebeians justly. At last, when they could not stand this unfair treatment any longer, they came together and marched out of the city.

"'We will claim our rights,' they said, and made ready to attack the patricians, who remained in Rome.

"It was a time of danger for the city, since there was a greater number of the poor than of the rich. What should be done? A very wise man named Agrippa was chosen to go out on the Campagna and reason with the plebeians. When he drew near to them, he said:

"'I have a fable which I wish to tell you. It is this:

"'Once upon a time all the limbs of a man's body became provoked because they had to work for the stomach. The legs and feet were obliged to carry it about; the hands had to get food for it; the mouth ate for it; the throat swallowed for it; the head thought for it; and so on. They said it was a shame they had to work so hard for that one organ. What use was it, indeed!

"'They agreed to do nothing more for it at all. They stopped their work, but, strange to say, they began to grow weak and helpless. At last they said to each other, "We shall all starve and die unless we go back to our old work. The stomach has seemed useless to us before, but now we see that we were mistaken."'

"After he had ended his story, Agrippa went on to say that all classes of people depended on each other, and that all would perish unless they worked together.

"Both the poor and the rich seemed to think that this was good advice. The plebeians marched back into the city and took up their old work, while the patricians promised to be fairer in their dealings.

"Thus peace was made and Rome was saved."

As Mr. Gray finished the story the carriage drew up in front of their home.

"What a short ride it seemed," said Tessa. "It must have been because of the story you told us, Mr. Gray. I shall never forget it."

CHAPTER VII

THE TWINS

"Tessa and Beppo are two of the best models I ever had," said Mr. Gray. "They were perfectly quiet and did just what I wished. My picture is finished and you must all come up and look at it."

It was a sunny afternoon nearly a week after the christening of Tessa's baby brother. Lucy and Arthur were in the drawing-room with their mother when Mr. Gray opened the door with these words.

There was a great scampering over the stairs as the two children tried to see who could reach the studio first.

"Oh, how lovely, how lovely!" cried Lucy, who was the winner of the race. She was standing in front of the canvas.

And what do you think she saw? A little flower-girl out on the Campagna. She sat on the back of a donkey that certainly looked much like Pietro. The girl's bare feet were almost hidden by two great bags of fruit hanging from the donkey's sides.

In her lap was a basket of flowers that she would sell in the city to-day. A boy who was the very image of Beppo held the donkey's bridle.

"How beautiful you have made Tessa's curls," said Lucy. "But they are not a bit lovelier than hers really are. Look at the feather in Beppo's pointed hat, Arthur, and the gaiters buttoned up to the knees. And see the brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. It's the very way he wears it."

"But you haven't noticed the herd of oxen in the distance," said the modest little Tessa. She was quite abashed by the attention given to the figures of her brother and herself. "They are going back to the hillside for the night. What a lovely soft gray they are painted. I love these dear gentle creatures. They could do great harm with their large, spreading horns, but they are too kind for that."

"Yes, and see the shepherds standing in that field of daisies," said Beppo. "More than once my father and I have stayed all night in just such a place when the storm overtook us and we could not get home."

"How I love the mountains, far away in the soft light," said Mrs. Gray. "They make a beautiful background for the rest of the picture."

"When you have admired it as much as you like, I think we had better take a half-holiday and see some of the sights," proposed Mr. Gray. "It is only two o'clock now; how soon can you all be ready?"

"In five minutes, can't we, mother?" said Lucy, who was always delighted to have her father's company. He was usually so busy he could not often go anywhere with them.

"Yes," said Mrs. Gray. "We will not delay. Get your hats, children; we can come here to-morrow to enjoy the picture again."

This time they decided to walk, that the children might stop wherever they wished.

"What is this show? Oh, do look!" cried Tessa, as they came to a big box set up on the side of the street. A man could be seen partly hidden behind the curtain. He was making some puppets act out a little play. He changed his voice so as to represent first one, then another.

"That is a Punch and Judy show," said Arthur. "You may watch it while I go over to that little flower-girl's stand. I am going to buy a bunch of pansies for mother. I think that is the girl's grandfather standing by her side. He must be lame, for he has a crutch. I suppose they are very poor. Perhaps that child supports them both."

After Arthur had bought his flowers, they walked on till they came to a shrine set up against the wall. It was a picture of Saint Mary and the infant Jesus in a rough wooden frame.

Tessa and Beppo knelt before it and were very quiet for a minute or two.

"They are repeating some prayers," whispered Lucy to her brother, as they passed slowly on. "When we rode back from Tessa's home the other night, I noticed she suddenly stopped talking and shut her eyes when we passed one of those shrines out on the Campagna."

"She is a good little Catholic."

"Arthur, look at that poor donkey. You can't see anything but his legs and his nose. He is carrying such a big load of hay that the rest of his body is out of sight."

Their father came up to them at this moment, and said: "How would you like to take a carriage now and visit the Coliseum? We still have plenty of time, and I have never been there with you."

"Good! good!" cried the children.

While they were waiting for the carriage they bought some of the big Italian chestnuts at a stand where a boy stood roasting them for the passers-by.