“And how old,” added Nan, greatly impressed with the ancient monuments.
Then they drove round by the Roman Forum. This was altogether too much, and she gazed at it, with such a helpless expression on her face that Mr. Fairfield laughed at her.
“Drive on,” he said to the man; “we’ll see the Forum some other time. Well, Patty, my child, is Rome antique enough, or is it all trolley-cars and railroad stations?”
“Oh, Father,” said Patty, and because of a queer lump in her throat, she couldn’t talk in her usual merry fashion.
“There, there, dearie, don’t take it too seriously. I want you to love it all, but don’t let it break you up so.”
“I can’t help it,” said Patty, laughing as she wiped her eyes with her handkerchief; “it’s so big,—so—so——”
“So overpowering,—yes, I know. But that’s why I want you to get used to it by degrees. Now, we’ll go through some beautiful gardens, and on to the Pincio.”
Away they went along the Corso Umberto, and passed many statues, villas, buildings, fountains, and arches, but none of them so impressed Patty as the ancient ruins had done.
“Why is it,” she asked her father, “that the ruins are so much more impressive than the complete buildings?”
“That’s partly glamour,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, for he remembered what Patty had told him of Mr. Homer’s remarks on glamour.