TO
BONNIE BELL GUERNSEY
AND
JESSIE ELIZABETH GUERNSEY
WITH A VERY GREAT DEAL OF MY LOVE

CONTENTS

CHAPTERPAGE
IApprehensions[1]
II The End of One Journey and the Start of Another [8]
IIILunch and Some Modern History[17]
IV Florence and the New Home[27]
V New Friends, a New Day and New Plans [38]
VIMiss Parrish and Miss Harris-Clarke[46]
VII Getting Acquainted[56]
VIIISignor Paggi’s Compliments[68]
IX A Strolling Picnic[77]
X Cream Puffs, the Twilight and—[94]
XI Enter—Sam Deane![103]
XII Dark Clouds[117]
XIIIA Patch of Blue Sky[129]
XIVStories, Music and Tea[139]
XVFlorentine Winter[149]
XVI Plans for a Party[159]
XVII Cupid and a Lady Santa Claus[167]
XVIII The Effect of a Secret[182]
XIX Changes[197]
XX A Country Wedding and the Coming of Spring [208]
XXI Fiesole, a Clear Hot Day, and a Cool Garden [220]
XXII A Walk on a Sunday Afternoon[238]
XXIII Mischievous Cupid[253]
XXIV Homeward Bound[261]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE
“Didn’t exaggerate, did I?” he went on (page 227) [Frontispiece]
“Isn’t this simply ghastly?”[60]
“My name is Sam Deane,” he announced[110]
Mr. Hemmingway got so gay that he kissed Miss Meek [180]

A MODERN TRIO IN AN OLD TOWN

CHAPTER ONE
APPREHENSIONS

As I look back through my experience of eighteen years, I realize that many of my apprehensions have been foolish, because so many of the things that I dreaded turned out all right. Almost every one of the parties I thought would be stiff—and I am not very happy at the sort!—proved to be the kind where every one grew lively. I remember one that Elaine McDonald had, particularly, because I had said to mother, “I don’t want to go. They’ll all wear gloves and it will be miserable!” But I did go, and they had a Paul Jones that was so rough that they broke a chair and knocked over a table, and it was fine! While, on the other hand, there have been parties that I thought would be nice and informal, and we just went and sat in one place and talked, and at that sort I smile until my face feels as if it were covered with shellac, because I don’t feel like smiling at all. And this all shows—or it should, because I am trying to make it—that I never should take my apprehensions seriously. But—I seem to have to, and I always do, and so I felt as if I had real reason for misery, when Mrs. Hamilton, who had looked after me as I crossed the Atlantic upon the Steamship Carpatia, called me back into the stateroom and said, “By the way, child, I am not going to Florence, after all—”

Well, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, which is what I often do while waiting.

“But,” she went on, as she fussed with the little jars that contribute quite a lot toward her beauty, “I shall hunt up some one who is, and see that you are looked after.”