"Where do you live?" Johnny ventured to ask; for there was a homesick sound to the voice as it said those last words.
"In Rome. Here we only stay a year, while papa arranges his affairs; then we go back, and I am happy."
"I should think you'd be happy in there. It looks real splendid to me, and I've been longing to see it ever since I could come out."
"It's a dull place to me. I like better to be where it's always warm, and people are more beautiful than here. Are you beautiful?"
"What queer questions she does ask!" And poor Johnny was so perplexed he could only stammer, with a laugh,—
"I guess not. Boys don't care for looks."
"Peep, and let me see. I like pretty persons," commanded the voice.
"Don't she order round?" thought Johnny, as he obeyed. But he liked it, and showed such a smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay was pleased to say, after a long look at him,—
"No, you are not beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you look pleasant, so I don't mind the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of your face. I think you are good. I am sorry for you, and I shall lend you a book to read when the pain comes."
"I couldn't wait for that if I had a book. I do love so to read!" And Johnny laughed out from sheer delight at the thought of a new book; for he seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and too helpless to enjoy the free libraries of the city.