“I don’t want you to get too near to ancient Rome,” said Mr. Fairfield, laughing, as he led her back indoors. “I want to keep you in the twentieth century for some time yet.”
The last day in Rome, Patty was quite pensive,—for her. She went and sat on the Spanish Steps, she bought another large photograph of the Coliseum, and some more models of the Forum, which last, however, were broken to bits long before she reached home.
“I don’t see why they don’t make the silly things stronger,” she said as, on reaching the hotel, she found two of the models in fragments.
“Because they’re ruins,” said Nan, consolingly. “Those old columns are nearly all in ruins, so it’s fitting the little models should follow in their ways.”
“Pshaw!” said Patty, flinging away the bits she had been trying to piece together. “There’s no use getting any more of those; they smash if you look at them.”
“Don’t look at them then,” said Nan, sweetly.
“I’ll try to get some cast-iron ones,—that’s the only kind of cast that won’t break,” said Patty, as she contented herself with photographs instead.
It was a lovely, sunshiny, autumn day when the Fairfields started for Naples.
“Our party grows smaller every time we move,” said Patty to Flo. “Now we are dropping you and Snippy, but I suppose father and Nan and I will stick together till we reach New York.”