"Oh, sister, you never told me that!" Beppi said accusingly. "Where are they from?"
"The south mostly," Lucia replied, "fine soldiers they are too, if you can judge by their looks."
"Which you can't," old Nana interrupted shortly. "Stop your talking and come in to supper."
"Right away," Lucia promised, and hurried off to shut up her goats in the small, half-tumbled-down shack at the back of the cottage.
Supper at the Rudinis consisted of boiled spaghetti, black bread and cheese, with a cup full of milk apiece. It was not a very tempting meal, but Lucia was hungry and ate with a hearty appetite.
After the three bowls had been washed and put away in the cupboard, she helped her grandmother undress, and settled her comfortably in the green enameled bed with its brass trimmings, that occupied a good part of the small room. Lucia's mother had brought it with her from Naples, and it was the most cherished and admired article of furniture that the Rudinis owned.
"Are you comfortable, Nana?" Lucia inquired gently, as she smoothed the fat, hard pillows in an attempt to make a rest for the old gray head.
"Yes, go to bed, child," Nana replied, and without more ado she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Lucia climbed up the ladder to the loft, and was soon cuddled down beside Beppi in a bed of fresh straw. Though she persisted in her determination that her grandmother sleep in state in the best bed, she herself preferred a simple and softer resting place.
"Tell me a story," Beppi demanded; "not about fairies and silly make believes, but about soldiers."