THE STORY OF A PICTURE.

upon our jewellery to-night; for you know my father
says that he likes bright faces better than bright
trinkets. And I am sure he has not invited any other
guests; he enjoys now and again a quiet evening with
his children,' as he calls us."
 Maria laughed. "Indeed, Francesca," she said,
"it seems to me from that letter that he wants only
Leonardo to-night, and that he will hardly look at us
at all. I cannot imagine what is the curious thing that
he is so anxious for him to see. But do put away that
work, dear Francesca, and take a stroll with me through
the garden."
 "Just three more stitches, Maria; I am so anxious
to see it finished."
 And I am anxious too, Francesca; for our terrace
walks came suddenly to an end when you began those
lilies. They are really beautiful, but, Francesca, three
more stitches won't finish them."
 Oh no, Maria; but you see that I have done the
whole of this long leaf. That was all I waited for, so
now I shall put it away for awhile, and we shall enjoy
the air."
 As she spoke she stepped out upon the terrace,
 and soon was deep in conversation with her com-
 panion.
 That afternoon Signor Selvico, with Francesca and
 Maria, left the villa, and after a long drive through the
 city and into the country beyond, reached the house of
 Signor Vieri. He received them with all possible
 cordiality; for while Leonardo regarded him with more
 than ordinary esteem, he had always shown to his son-
 in-law a father's affection.
 "Well," he said, when he had welcomed them in
 his warm-hearted manner, "I am happy to see you all
 here earlier than usual, and before we dine there will