"It was on a picnic—please do not ask me," she whispered foolishly.
In humorous perplexity the young man stood looking down upon the small figure that chance had deposited so unexpectedly upon his hearth, a most forlorn and drooping small figure, with downcast and averted head, then with that sudden smile that made his young face so brightly persuasive he dropped beside her and reached towards her.
"Here, little kiddie, you come and sit with me while I warm those feet of yours——"
Swiftly she withdrew from his kindly reaching hands.
"Signor, it is not fitting that you should hold me, that you should warm my feet," she gasped. "I am not a child, Signor!"
Signor . . . The word waked some echo in his mind. . . . The child had used it before—but what connection was groping——?
He repeated the word aloud.
"You do not recall?" said Maria Angelina chokingly. "Though indeed, there is no reason why you should. It was but for a moment——"
She glanced up to see recognition leap amazedly into his face.
"The little Signorina! The Blairs' little Signorina!"