'Oh, I am not cold!—It wasn't that!'
'What was it?' said Mrs. Burgoyne pleasantly. 'That you feel Italy too much for you? Ah! you must get used to that.'
Lucy Foster drew a long breath—a breath of emotion. She was grateful for being understood. But she could not express herself.
Mrs. Burgoyne looked at her curiously.
'Did you read a good deal about it before you came?'
'Well, I read some—we have a good town library—and Uncle Ben gave me two or three books—but of course it wasn't like Boston. Ours is a little place.'
'And you were pleased to come?'
The girl hesitated.
'Yes'—she said simply. 'I wanted to come.—But I didn't want to leave my uncle. He is getting quite an old man.'
'And you have lived with him a long time?'