CHAPTER III

It was Christmas afternoon, and the twins were alone in the tiny apartment. It had been a very strange, dull Christmas, although every one had been kind, and the Palonis had done their best to give the little girls a good time. In the morning Signora Paloni had taken them to the Christmas mass at the Duomo, and they had really enjoyed the beautiful music, and the unfamiliar service. When Mummy was at home they always attended the little American church, where the service was very simple, a great contrast to the high mass at the cathedral. Afterwards they had dined with their kind landlord and his wife, and feasted on roast chicken stuffed with chestnuts, a delicacy very rare in their simple lives, for meat costs money, and Mummy's means were limited. And now it was late in the afternoon, and the Palonis had gone out to spend the evening, leaving the twins in charge of Tessa, the Italian maid-of-all-work, who had promised to give them their supper, and see that they went to bed at their usual hour. They were both feeling very forlorn and lonely. They missed their mother more than they liked to talk about, and they had been obliged to "pretend" very hard all the afternoon, in order to keep up even the faintest semblance of cheerfulness. They had in turn personated most of their favorite characters, including Queen Elizabeth, George Washington, and Savonarola. They had heard a great deal about Savonarola through having spent so much time in Florence. At last Jill proposed that they should be the little Princes in the Tower.

"We haven't played that since that afternoon in the gallery," she said. "It was the day Mummy told us about going to Sicily, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Lill, with a sigh, "and do you remember the gentleman who talked to us and asked where we lived? We thought he might buy some of Mummy's pictures."

"Well, you see he didn't," said Jill. "I didn't believe he really would."

"He had a kind face, though," said Lill, reflectively. "I wonder if he would have done it if he had known how much Mummy needed the money. He said he had a little girl named Lilian once. I wonder when she died, and what was the matter with her."

"That reminds me of something Tessa told me this morning," said Jill. "You know the American gentleman, who has taken the first-floor apartment, and who slipped on a piece of orange peel on the sidewalk, and sprained his knee, the very day after he came here. Well, it's dreadfully sad about him; his wife and little girl were both drowned last summer."

"How did Tessa know about it?" Lill inquired, with interest.

"The gentleman told her. You see, after he had his accident he had to have somebody to do things for him, so the doctor who attended to his knee sent a man who can talk English, because Mr. Brown--that's the gentleman's name--can't speak much Italian, and the man told Tessa all about it."

"It must be dreadfully sad for him to be all alone, especially on Christmas," said Lill, sympathetically. "I'm afraid he's having a worse Christmas than we are."

"I'm sure he is," said Jill. "I wish we could do something for him, don't you?"

"Yes, but I don't see what we could possibly do. We don't even know him."

"I know we don't, but we might get acquainted. If Mummy were at home, I'm almost sure she would get acquainted with him; she's always so sorry for people who are unhappy."

"Do you mean that we might go to see him?" inquired Lill, in growing astonishment.

"I don't think there would be any harm in our doing it, when he's living right here in the same house with us. We wouldn't stay long, of course, only just enough to wish him a Merry Christmas, and we might take him a little present."

"But perhaps he doesn't want people to come to see him. He might think we were very queer to do such a thing," objected Lill, who was more shy, and less quick to make friends than her sister.

"I don't see how he could possibly think it queer. He's an American just the same as we are, and in America Mummy says people always wish each other a Merry Christmas. Besides, if we saw he didn't like our coming, we could go right away again. I think it would be a kind, neighborly thing to do."

"What sort of a present could we take him if we went?" questioned Lill, glancing about the shabby little room, as if in the faint hope of finding some inspiration from the furniture.

"We might take him one of those nice oranges Signor gave us, and a piece of Signora's cake," suggested Jill, referring to the only two Christmas presents which had come to the twins on that day.

The suggestion met with Lill's approval, and after a little more discussion the matter was settled. Ten minutes later the twins were on their way downstairs, Jill carrying a plate, on which was a large slice of Signora Paloni's frosted cake, and Lill proudly bearing two oranges.

"We had better take two," she had declared. "There's nothing so good as fruit to eat when you don't feel well, and if his knee hurts him a great deal he may be feverish."

"It does seem very queer to go to see somebody you don't know at all," Lill said, hesitating, when they had reached the last landing, and were standing outside Mr. Brown's door.

"We wouldn't do it on any other day but Christmas," said Jill, resolutely, and without giving her sister time for any further hesitation, she lifted her hand and knocked.

There was a moment's silence; then some one called "Come in" in English; Jill turned the handle, and next moment the twins found themselves in a comfortably furnished sitting-room, with a wood fire crackling on the hearth.

In an arm-chair, drawn up before the fire, sat the owner of the apartment, one leg supported on a stool. His back was towards the door, but at the entrance of the children, he turned his head, and at sight of his face both twins uttered an involuntary exclamation of surprise.

"Why, it's the gentleman who talked to us in the gallery!" cried Jill.

"We didn't know you were Mr. Brown," added Jill, almost dropping the oranges in her surprise.

The gentleman smiled.

"No, I don't suppose you did," he said. "I haven't seen many people since I came here. I met with an unfortunate accident a few days ago."

"Yes, we heard about it," said Lill, sympathetically. "I suppose that's why you didn't--"

She paused abruptly, admonished by a warning nudge from Jill.

"Didn't what?" the gentleman asked. His eyes were fixed earnestly on Lill, and there was the same softened look in them that the twins had noticed when he told them that he had once had a little Lilian of his own.

Lill blushed scarlet, and her eyes drooped.

"I was going to say something," she explained, "but perhaps it wouldn't be polite."

"Say it. I am not a very polite person myself, so I shall not mind whether it is or not."

"Well," said Lill, slowly, "it wasn't anything important, only you know you asked where we lived, and we told you about Mummy's pictures. We thought perhaps you would come to look at them, but of course you couldn't on account of your knee."

"That's true; I couldn't, even if I had intended to. This confounded knee has upset a good many of my plans. But suppose you come in and shut the door; it's rather chilly."

Lill complied with this request, and Jill hastened to explain the cause of their visit.

"We didn't come to stay," she said, carefully depositing her plate on the table. "We only stopped to wish you a Merry Christmas, and to bring you some cake and oranges. We thought you might like them."

"I do like them very much indeed," said Mr. Brown, and it was wonderful how kind and pleasant his face became all at once. "It was kind of you to remember a solitary prisoner. Won't you both sit down?"

The twins promptly seated themselves on the sofa, which was directly opposite Mr. Brown's arm-chair. They were beginning to enjoy the little adventure.

"You see we knew you were an American, just like us," said Lill, "Mummy says in America people always wish each other a Merry Christmas."

"Your mother is away, is she not?"

"Yes, she has gone to Sicily with some young ladies from the school where she gives drawing lessons. It's the first time she has ever left us, and it was dreadful to have her go, but she's having a lovely time."

"We had a letter from her this morning," chimed in Jill, giving the pocket which contained the precious letter an affectionate pat. "She sent it so we would surely get it on Christmas, and she told us so many interesting, wonderful things. She was in Palermo when she wrote, but she was going to Messina. Perhaps you would like to hear the letter; it's so very interesting."

"I should be very glad to hear it," said Mr. Brown, and his voice actually sounded almost eager.

Jill was delighted, and promptly produced the letter, which she already knew almost by heart.

"I'll begin and read the first half, and Lill can finish it," she said, magnanimously. "We both like to read it so much."

"I see," said Mr. Brown, and he smiled again, in what Lill afterwards pronounced, "such a nice, understanding way."

So Jill began the letter, in a sweet, clear voice, and when she had read the first half, she handed it to Lill, who read the rest, with equal pride and satisfaction. Mr. Brown made no comments, but the twins felt sure he was listening, and as they went on, his face grew very sad and tender, and at last he turned it partly away from the light, and shaded his eyes with his hand.

"Isn't it the most interesting letter you ever heard?" demanded Lill, proudly, when she had finished the last sentence, and was replacing the precious document in the envelope.

"It is a charming letter," said Mr. Brown, heartily. "You are very fond of your mother, are you not?"

"Fond of her!" cried Lill. "I should think we were; we just adore her. There isn't anybody in the world like Mummy. You can't think how she works, and what a hard time she has when people won't buy her pictures."

"Tell me about it," said Mr. Brown, and there was something in his voice that made Lill go on almost in spite of herself. Jill did not feel at all sure whether Mummy would approve of having her private affairs revealed to a stranger, and would have stopped her sister if she could, but Lill had forgotten everything in the world except her mother's cheerful bravery, and her anxiety that this strange gentleman with the sad smile and kind eyes, should know and appreciate her. So she told all about their father's sad death in Rome, of their coming to Florence, and of all Mummy's struggles and difficulties.

"She never complains or says she's tired," finished Lill, with a break in her voice, "but we can see the tired look in her eyes, and it makes us feel as if we wanted to cry."

"Has your mother no friends or relatives who can help her?" Mr. Brown was looking straight into the fire as he asked the question.

"She has a brother, but he doesn't ever do anything to help her," said Lill, impulsively.

"Perhaps he doesn't know that she needs help. Does she ever write to him?"

"I don't believe so, but even if she did, I'm sure he wouldn't help her, because--"

"I don't think Mummy would like to have us talk about that," said Jill, who had suddenly grown very red. "I'm afraid we shall have to go now," she added, rising. "We only came to wish you a Merry Christmas, and to bring the cake and oranges."

"Well, you haven't wished me a Merry Christmas yet," said Mr. Brown, "and I haven't thanked you for your presents. Don't be in a hurry. It's pretty lonely shut up in this room all day. My man is out, or I would offer you some tea."

"Mummy doesn't let us drink tea," said Lill, "but we often make it for her. We will make some for you if you would like to have us."

"I should like it immensely," Mr. Brown assured her. "I have been longing for a cup of tea for the past half-hour, and I have no idea how soon my man will be back. I gave him the afternoon off to spend with his family. I think you will find everything you need in that closet."

For the next ten minutes the twins were very busy. Their housewifely little souls swelled with pride at this opportunity of displaying their culinary abilities, and as they made the tea they chattered away to their new acquaintance, telling all about their plan for learning to cook a real dinner to surprise Mummy when she came home, and in their innocent prattle divulging many of the details of their simple lives. And Mr. Brown listened, almost in silence, and as the children chattered on, the look of sadness deepened in his eyes.

"And now what can I offer you in the way of refreshments?" he asked, smiling, as Lill triumphantly brought him a cup of steaming tea, which he declared to be the very best he had ever tasted. "Suppose we begin on the cake. It looks delicious."

"No, no, that's all for you," protested Lill. "Signora Paloni made us a big cake, and we've got plenty more upstairs. Besides, we don't need anything to eat. We dined with the Palonis, and they had such good things."

"What did they have?" Mr. Brown inquired with interest, as he sipped his tea.

"Roast chicken stuffed with chestnuts, and fried potatoes, and artichokes cooked in cream. And for dessert there was fruit, and the Palonis had wine."

"Not a very elaborate Christmas dinner, I should say," said Mr. Brown, laughing. "How about the plum pudding and mince pie?"

"Oh, they don't have those things in Italy," Jill explained. "Mummy has told us about them, and they must be delicious, but we are very fond of roast chicken, and we very seldom have it."

Mr. Brown suddenly set down his cup.

"What do you usually have for dinner?" he asked, sharply.

Jill was a little startled at this question, which struck her as somewhat curious, but Lill answered innocently--

"Oh, we have soup and vegetables and macaroni, and on Sundays we have salad, and sometimes Mummy makes a pudding. Oh, we have very good dinners, but of course they are not like the Palonis'."

"Come here," said Mr. Brown, in a voice that was not quite steady, and he put out his hand and drew Lill to him. "I want to talk to you a little before you go away. I had a little Lilian of my own last Christmas, and she was very much like you."

"Yes, I know," said Lill, softly; "you told us in the gallery, and Tessa, Signora Paloni's maid--told us about the dreadful thing that happened. We were so sorry. That was one reason why we wanted to come to see you to-day. We were afraid you might be lonely."

"Lonely!" repeated Mr. Brown, sadly. "Ah, my little girl, I hope you may never know what loneliness like mine means. It was very good of you to come to see me, and I appreciate it more than I can express. You have each brought me a present, and now I want to give you one in return."

He put his hand into his pocket, from whence he produced a shining gold piece, which he held out to Lill.

"It's only a trifle," he said, carelessly, "but you can buy something you want with it."

But to his surprise, Lill drew back, her cheeks crimsoning.

"You are very kind," she said timidly, "but please don't be angry, we couldn't possibly take it; Mummy wouldn't like to have us."

"Nonsense," began Mr. Brown, impatiently; then checked himself at sight of the children's embarrassment. "Do you really think your mother would object to your accepting a little present?" he asked, kindly.

"I'm afraid she would," said Jill, coming to her sister's rescue. "I am quite sure she wouldn't like to have us take money from some one she doesn't know."

"Oh, that is the trouble, is it? Well, I think we may be able to get over that difficulty when your mother comes home, and in the meantime, you are quite right not to do anything you think she would disapprove. How old are you, by the way?"

"We were eleven in October," said Jill, feeling much relieved at seeing Mr. Brown put the gold piece back in his pocket, "but I am much taller than Lill."

"Yes, Lill is small for her age; she is not any taller than my little girl, and she was only nine."

"Do I really look so much like her?" inquired Lill, her big, innocent eyes fixed earnestly on Mr. Brown's face.

"Very much indeed; so much that I sometimes almost fancy--but there, there, we won't talk about sad things, especially on Christmas. Come and see me again."

"Yes indeed we will," said Jill, heartily; "we've had a lovely time, and we're ever so much obliged to you for letting us make the tea."

Lill said nothing, but with a sudden impulse, she slipped her hand confidingly into Mr. Brown's. For a moment his fingers closed tightly over the little hand, and then he bent and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good-bye," he said, in a low, unsteady voice. "God bless you, little Lilian."

"What a very nice gentleman!" exclaimed Jill, as the twins went upstairs together. "I think he was really very glad to see us. Aren't you glad we went?"

"Yes," said Lill. "I like him very much, but, oh, Jill, he has such a sad look in his eyes. I never felt so sorry for any one before. I do wish we could do something for him that would make him really happy."

For several minutes after the door had closed behind his visitors, Mr. Brown remained in the same position, staring into the fire with dim, unseeing eyes. Then suddenly his head sank forward on the table beside him, with a sigh that was almost a groan.

"God forgive me," he murmured brokenly. "My poor little Kitty! I never dreamed it had been as bad as this. But I will atone, God helping me, I will atone."