“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” Laura asked triumphantly.
“Oh, no—how I wish I had!”
Laura beamed again.
“Laura likes to have things other people haven’t,” Maida thought.
Her hostess now conducted her back over the two flights of stairs to the lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was all shining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which was filled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because there were so many books and—
“Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed, stopping before one of the pictures; “that’s Santa Maria in Cosmedin. I haven’t seen that since I left Rome.”
“How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?” a voice asked back of her. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room.
Maida arose immediately from her chair. “We stayed in Rome two months,” she said.
“Indeed. And where else did you go?”
“London, Paris, Florence and Venice.”