"Truly?" asked Edith in great delight.
He nodded, smiling mischievously at her unexpected pleasure in hearing of the Italian superstitions.
Befana is the Italian Lady Santa Claus. She is quite different from the fat, jolly man who drives his reindeer over the roofs at Christmas time.
While Sir Santa is short and rosy, Befana is dark and tall; and while the kind old gentleman leaves something in every stocking, good and bad alike, this rather terrible old lady puts presents only in the good children's stockings, and drops bags of ashes into the others.
Instead of happening at Christmas, as with us, the Italian festival is celebrated on the eve of Epiphany, the sixth of January.
"Everyone is happy then," said Rafael, "and we shall forget Pompeii and the man-of-war which is always threatening it."
So the children began at once to plan for the Twelfth-night festival.
"Mother and I will make some peasant costumes for us to wear," Edith told Rafael, and added, "or you might wear a soldier's uniform and a cocked hat. The soldiers look so fine and march so well in Italy!"
"Come children, it is time to go to bed if we are to take the early morning train to Rome," interrupted Mrs. Sprague, who had been studying a time-table; and the children separated, little dreaming that every plan would soon be changed.