[Illustration: THE THRONG OF MOVING WORKMEN]

THE STORY OF GLASS

By

SARA WARE BASSETT

Author of

"The Story of Lumber""The Story of Wool""The Story of Leather""The Story of Sugar"etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY

C. P. GRAY

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANYPHILADELPHIA1917

COPYRIGHT 1916 BYTHE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

_To G. C. _

_a patient listener and a helpful critic I inscribe this book as areminder of many happy hours which we spent together in the OldWorld_

_S. W. B. _

Contents

 I. A FRIENDLY FEUD 9

 II. JEAN HAS A SURPRISE AND GIVES ONE 27

 III. GIUSIPPE TELLS A STORY 50

 IV. UNCLE BOB ENLARGES HIS PARTY 66

 V. GIUSIPPE ENCOUNTERS AN OLD FRIEND 83

 VI. UNCLE BOB AS STORY TELLER 99

 VII. AMERICA ONCE MORE 121

VIII. JEAN THREATENS TO STEAL GIUSIPPE'S TRADE 140

 IX. A REUNION 163

 X. TWO UNCLES AND A NEW HOME 182

 XI. JEAN'S TELEGRAM AND WHAT IT SAID 208

 XII. JEAN AND GIUSIPPE EACH FIND A NICHE IN LIFE 220

Illustrations

 Page

THE THRONG OF MOVING WORKMEN _Frontispiece_

"EVERY ONE KNOWS ME AT THE GLASS WORKS" 47

"I KNEW HER IN VENICE" 95

"IT IS SHAPED TO THE FORM REQUIRED" 160

"THE MELT IS POURED OUT ON AN IRON TABLE" 202

"I WANT THESE ORDERS FILLED" 223

THE STORY OF GLASS

CHAPTER I

A FRIENDLY FEUD

Jean Cabot "lived around. " She did not live around because nobodywanted her, however; on the contrary, she lived around because so manypeople wanted her. Both her father and mother had died when Jean was ababy and so until she was twelve years old she had been brought up by acousin of her mother's. Then the cousin had married a missionary andhad gone to teach the children in China, and China, as you will agree, was no place for an American girl to go to school. Therefore Jean wassent to Boston and put in charge of her uncle, Mr. Robert Cabot. UncleBob was delighted with the arrangement, for they were great friends, Jean and this boy-uncle of hers. 

But no sooner did she arrive in Boston and settle down to live onBeacon Hill than up rose Uncle Tom Curtis, Jean's other uncle, wholived in Pittsburgh. He made a dreadful fuss because Jean had gone toUncle Bob's to live. _He_ wanted her out in Pittsburgh, and he wrotethat Fräulein Decker, who was his housekeeper, and had been governessto Jean's own mother, wanted her too. 

That started Hannah, Uncle Bob's housekeeper. 

"The very idea, " she said, "of that German woman thinking they wantJean in Pittsburgh as much as we want her here in Boston. Didn't Ibring up Jean's father, I'd like to know; and her Uncle Bob as well? Iguess I can be trusted to bring up another Cabot. It's ridiculous--that'swhat it is--perfectly _ree_-diculous!" That was Hannah's favoriteexpression--"Ree-diculous!" "I'd like my job, " went on Hannah, "sendingthat precious child to Pittsburgh where her white dresses would get allgrimed up with coal soot. "

But Hannah's scorn of Pittsburgh did not settle the matter. 

Instead Mr. Carleton, Uncle Tom Curtis's lawyer, came to Boston as fastas he could get there and one afternoon presented himself at UncleBob's house on Beacon Hill. Uncle Bob was in the library when hearrived and the two men sat down before the fire, for it was a chillyday in early spring. After they had said a few pleasant things aboutthe weather, and Uncle Bob had inquired for Uncle Tom, they really gotstarted on what they wanted to say and my--how they did talk! It wasall good-natured talk, for Uncle Bob liked Uncle Tom Curtis very much;nevertheless Uncle Bob and Uncle Tom's lawyer did talk pretty hard andpretty fast, for they had lots of things to say. 

At last Uncle Bob Cabot rose from his leather chair and going to thefireplace gave the blazing logs a vicious little poke. 

He was becoming nettled. Anybody could see that. 

"The Curtises have not a whit more title to the child than I have, " heburst out. "You are a lawyer, Carleton, and you know that. I am just asmuch Jean's uncle as Tom Curtis is; in fact I think I am more her unclebecause I am her father's own brother. I'm a Cabot, and so is Jean. Ishould think that ought to be enough. Who would she live with, if notwith the Cabots?"

Mr. Carleton cleared his throat. 

"You certainly have a strong claim to the little girl, " he agreed. "Butyou see my other client puts up an equally convincing story. In fact, he uses almost your identical words. He says he is Jean's mother's ownbrother, and argues no one can have a closer right than that. "

"But what does he know about bringing up a little girl? Isn't he an oldbachelor?"

"You are not married yourself, Mr. Cabot. "

"Well, no. So I'm not. However, that's neither here nor there. TomCurtis is fifty if he's a day. He is too old to bring up a child, Carleton. "

"He complains that you are only thirty, and too young. "

Mr. Robert Cabot, who was walking excitedly about the room, turnedquickly. 

"But I have Hannah. You do not know Hannah or you would feeldifferently. It is hard to tell you what Hannah is. You just have toknow her. She is the mainspring of my household. Not only does shecook, clean, mend, and market for me; she does a score of thingsbesides. Why, I couldn't live without her. She is one of those motherlysouls whose wisdom is of the sages. She has been in our family since Iwas a baby. Most of my bringing up, in fact, was due to her and, " headded whimsically, "behold the work of her hands!"

Mr. Carleton smiled. 

"I cannot deny the product is good, Mr. Cabot. But again, all thesearguments you put forth Mr. Tom Curtis also reëchoes in behalf of hisGerman Fräulein. She too has been for years in the Curtis family andbrought up their children, and Mr. Curtis feels that since she trainedJean's mother she is eminently the person to train Jean. "

"Humph!"

"The claims seem about equal. "

"No, they're not. That's where you are wrong. Allowing everything elseto be equal even you must grant that there is one serious objection ofwhich you have not spoken. Mr. Tom Curtis lives in _Pittsburgh_! Thatis enough to overthrow the whole thing. Pittsburgh! Think of bringingup a child in Pittsburgh when she could be brought up in Boston. Boston, my good man, is intellectually--well, of course I do not wishto appear prejudiced, but you will, I am sure, admit that Boston----"

Mr. Bob Cabot dropped helplessly into his chair, leaving the sentenceunfinished. There seemed to be no words in the English languageadequate to express what, in Mr. Bob Cabot's estimation, Bostonactually was. 

Mr. Carleton started to laugh, but after glancing furtively at Mr. BobCabot he changed his mind and coughed instead. 

"We all grant Boston is without an intellectual peer, " he answered witha grave inclination of his head. "Even I, who was born in Indiana, grant that, although out in my state we think we run you a closesecond. Boston moreover has a background of which we in the West cannotboast--history, you know, and all that sort of thing. It would be agreat privilege for little Miss Jean Cabot to receive a home and aneducation in Boston. There are, however, many fine things inPittsburgh; it is not all soot, or panting factories. "

"I suppose not. Jean's mother was a Pittsburgh girl, and certainly shewas a wonderful type of woman. Yet you cannot tell what result a Bostonenvironment might have had on such a nature as hers. She might havebeen even nearer perfection. Yet after all she was quite fine enoughfor human clay, Carleton, quite fine enough. And the little girlpromises to be like her--an uncommonly sweet, gentle child, and pretty, too--very pretty. To send her to Pittsburgh--hang it all! Why must TomCurtis live in Pittsburgh?"

"Mr. Curtis, as you seem to have forgotten, Mr. Cabot, is the owner ofone of the largest plate glass factories in the country. He has builtup a fortune by his business and he is no more ready to hurl his life'swork to the winds and come to Boston to live than you are to toss asideyour own business and move to Pittsburgh. And by the way, speaking ofbusiness, Mr. Cabot, if it does not seem an impertinent question, whatis _your_ business?"

"My business? Well, for a good many years my chief business seemed tobe getting over a bad knee I got when playing tackle on the Harvardfootball eleven. We wiped up the ground with Yale, though, so it wasworth it. Of late I spend more or less time in seeing that Hannah doesnot feed me too well and starve herself. Part of my business, too, isto argue with disagreeable old lawyers like yourself, Carleton. " Mr. Bob Cabot chuckled. "When I am not doing some of these things and havethe surplus time I am incidentally an interior decorator. Oh, I do notgo out papering and painting; oh dear, no! I just tell other people howto spend a fortune furnishing their houses. I advise brocade hangings, Italian marbles and every sort of rare and beautiful thing, and since Ido not have these luxuries to pay for I find my vocation a tremendouslyinteresting one. "

"You have set a worthy example in your own house, " observed Mr. Carleton, glancing about with admiration. 

"Oh, I've done a little--not much. I like the old landscape paper inthis library; some of my antique furniture, too, is rather nice. Ipicked up many of the best pieces in the South. The house itself cameto me from my father, and I have altered it very little, as I wasanxious to keep its old colonial atmosphere. Hannah and I live heremost peacefully with a waitress and inside man to help us. With Jeanadded to the household we shall have just the touch of young life thatwe need. I am very fond of children, and----"

"You seem very certain that Jean is to settle with you, Mr. Cabot. Nowlet me own up to something; although Mr. Tom Curtis sent me to havethis talk with you and pave the way, it chances--no, chance is not theright word--on the contrary it is an intentional fact that Mr. TomCurtis is at this very moment here in Boston. "

Mr. Bob Cabot started. 

"Tom Curtis here!"

"Yes. He is putting up at the University Club, and he wanted me to askyou if you would be so good as to dine there with him to-night. "

"So he has come over to enter the fray himself, has he? Well, well! Whydidn't he come right here? Of course I'll join him. I always liked TomCurtis. The only things I have against him are that he _will_ livein Pittsburgh--and that he wants Jean. "

Mr. Carleton rose with satisfaction. At least part of his mission hadbeen successfully accomplished. He could afford to overlook the slur onPittsburgh which, as it happened, was his home as well as that of Mr. Tom Curtis. 

"Then I'll call up Mr. Curtis, " he said, "and tell him he may expectyou. Will seven o'clock be all right?"

"Certainly. I suppose I shall not see you again, Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton hesitated. 

"It is just possible that I may drop in on you and Mr. Curtis afterdinner. "

"Oh, I see. A plot. "

"Not at all. I have some business to settle with Mr. Curtis before Ireturn to Pittsburgh. "

"Going back to that grimy coal hole, are you?" blustered Mr. Bob Cabot. "How you fellows can live there when you might spend your days inBost----"

The door slammed. 

Mr. Carleton was gone. 

Shrugging his shoulders Mr. Bob Cabot glanced at the clock. He had justabout time to dash off a necessary letter, dress, and get to theUniversity Club. 

"Hannah!" he called. 

A small dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway. She had sharp littleblack eyes that twinkled a great deal, and she had a mouth that turnedup at the corners; furthermore she had a plump figure neatly dressed ingray, and a white apron tied behind in an enormous and very spiritedbow. 

"Yes, Mr. Bob. "

"Hannah, Mr. Tom Curtis is in town with a rascal of a lawyer. They havecome to see about taking Jean to live in Pittsburgh. "

"Pittsburgh! My soul, Mr. Bob! You'll not let her go, of course. Pittsburgh, indeed! Don't we know that Boston----"

"We certainly do, Hannah. Nobody knows what Boston is better than wedo. But Mr. Tom Curtis unfortunately was not born in Boston. "

"More's the pity! Still, I suppose he cannot be blamed for that. Itwasn't really his fault. "

Mr. Bob Cabot laughed and dropped a big, kindly hand on the shoulder ofthe woman beside him. 

"I will try and impress upon him all that he has missed when I see himto-night. I am to dine with him at the University Club at seven. "

"You're not dining out!" ejaculated Hannah in dismay. 

"I'm afraid so. "

"Oh, Mr. Bob! And fried chicken for dinner--just the way you like it, too. "

"I'm sorry, Hannah. "

"And me browning all those sweet potatoes!"

"I'm lots more disappointed than you are--truly I am. It can't behelped, though. Now let me finish this letter and you go and lay out mydress shirt and studs and things, or I'll be late. "

Hannah darted from the room. 

"I made you a Brown Betty pudding, too, Mr. Bob!" she called over hershoulder. "But no matter. There is no evil without some good; yourtrousers are freshly pressed and handsome as pictures--if I do say itas shouldn't. I'll lay 'em out for you, and your dinner coat as well. But to think of that pudding! Why couldn't Mr. Curtis have invited youthe night the beef stew was scorched. "

 * * * *

Promptly on the stroke of seven Uncle Bob Cabot presented himself atthe University Club, where Uncle Tom Curtis was waiting for him, andthe two men grasped hands cordially. How big Uncle Tom Curtis lookedand, despite Hannah's remarks, how rosy and how clean! And what a nicesmile he had! The dinner was extraordinarily good. The filet was doneto a turn, and there was just enough seasoning on the mushrooms. As forthe grilled potatoes, even Hannah herself couldn't have improved uponthem. An old Harvard "grad" came over from the next table and greetedUncle Tom Curtis, telling him he did not look a day older than when hewas in college, and in spite of his gray hairs Uncle Tom Curtis seemedto believe it. Then they talked of the last Harvard boat race; thewinning eleven; the D. K. E. With its initiation pranks; and the oldprofessors. And after the other man had left the waiter brought coffeewhich was deliciously hot and cheese that was exactly ripe enough. Uncle Tom Curtis seemed to have no end of stories at which Uncle BobCabot laughed until he was very red in the face, and afterward UncleBob told some stories and Uncle Tom Curtis sat back in his chair andlaughed and wiped his eyes and mopped his forehead. Then Uncle Bob saidthat of course the Club was all very well, but he should insist onUncle Tom's tossing his things into his grip and coming over to BeaconHill with him to finish up his Boston visit. 

They did not talk about Jean any more that night, but the next morningafter breakfast they went at the discussion and were just in the midstof it when who should walk in but Jean herself. She had been spendingtwo or three days with a friend of her mother who lived in the suburbs. 

"Uncle Bob!" she called as she dashed her hat and muff down upon thesettle in the hall. "Uncle Bob! Oh, I had a perfectly lovely time. Andwhat do you think! Mrs. Chandler has three darling Irish terrierpuppies, and she is going to give me one if you are willing that Ishould have it. You do like puppies, don't you? I know you'd like theseanyway; they are so blinky, and fat, and little. "

Tossing her coat on top of the hat and muff she ran up the front stairsand into the library. 

"Why, Uncle Tom Curtis!" she cried. "Whatever brought you here?"

Fluttering to the big man's side she gave him a prodigious hug and atthe same time dropped a butterfly kiss on the top of his shiny baldhead. The next instant she was perched on the arm of Uncle Bob's chair, eyeing her two uncles expectantly. 

"You both look so hot and so--well, almost cross, you know. What is thematter?"

"We are talking about you, honey, " ventured Uncle Bob after a short, uneasy silence. 

"About _me_! And it makes you look as solemn and ruffled up as this?Whatever have I done? Did Mrs. Chandler telephone you about the puppy?Don't worry. I do not mind if I don't have it--really I don't. "

"No, dear, it wasn't the puppy. You shall have all the puppies you wantso far as I'm concerned, " Uncle Bob answered, stroking the tiny handthat nestled in his. "No, your Uncle Tom and I were talking about whereyou are to live. "

"But I thought I was to live here. "

"I thought so too, " agreed Uncle Bob. "Uncle Tom, though, is notsatisfied with that arrangement. He says he wants you to come and livewith him. "

"But I couldn't leave you, Uncle Bob--you know that; at least, not forall the time. If there were only two of me and I could live with eachof you how nice it would be. Of course I'd love to be with Uncle Tomsometimes. Why couldn't I live with one of you part of the time andwith the other the rest of the year? I'd rather be here in the summer, though, I think, because it's near the ocean. "

How simple the great tangle over which the two men had argued suddenlyseemed!

"Jean has settled it herself!" Uncle Tom exclaimed. "It shall bePittsburgh winters and Boston summers. I wonder we didn't solve it thatway in the beginning. "

So everybody was pleased. Even Hannah admitted that if that was thebest that could be done she would put up with it; but she made UncleTom Curtis promise to lay in a big supply of soap. 

"You must scrub her face and hands three times a day, and at least oncebetween meals if she is to live in Pittsburgh, " remarked she. "Andplease remember to have the grime soaked out of her white dresses, Mr. Curtis. Borax and a little ammonia will do it, " she concludedseriously. 

"We will wash not only the clothes in ammonia water, but Jean if yousay so, Hannah, " promised Uncle Tom. 

At this everybody laughed. 

Then by and by they had luncheon, and Uncle Tom Curtis said it was amuch better meal than he had had at the Club the night before; andHannah said that maybe Pittsburgh was not so black as it was painted;and Uncle Bob said he'd send the inside man to the Chandlers' to getthe puppy that very afternoon. And he did. And the puppy came, and hewas very small, and very fat, and very wobbly. His head was much toolarge for him and so were his feet. 

"You must name him Beacon Hill and call him Beacon for short, Jean, "said Uncle Tom Curtis--which, coming from Uncle Tom Curtis, who thoughtthere was no place on earth like Pittsburgh, was a generouscondescension. 

CHAPTER II

JEAN HAS A SURPRISE AND GIVES ONE

Uncle Tom Curtis returned to Pittsburgh the next day, leaving Jean andBeacon to stay with Uncle Bob until October. It was now April, and onthe Common and Public Garden the trees, which were beginning to breakinto delicate foliage, were invaded by scores of scampering graysquirrels so tame that they would eat out of one's hand. Often in themorning when Jean walked to the office with Uncle Bob she would stop tofeed these hungry little creatures and also the flocks of friendlypigeons clustering along the walks. Of course Beacon had to be leftbehind when the family went on such strolls, for he was far too fond ofchasing everything he saw; afternoon was his gala time. Then, whileJean flew on roller skates along the broad asphalt Esplanade borderingthe Charles River, Beacon would race up and down dodging the skaters, playing with the children, and nearly tripping up the throngs ofnurse-maids who trundled their wee charges in the bright sunshine. 

How quickly the days passed!

Already the Beacon Hill house had become a real home, and Uncle Bobdearer each moment she stayed in it. 

"You know, Uncle Bob, you would be really perfect if only you likeddolls and could tie hair ribbons, " said Jean teasingly. 

Uncle Bob shook his head ruefully. 

"I never could care for sawdust people, " said he, "when there were somany interesting real ones in the world. As for the hair ribbons, perhaps I might learn to tie those in time, although I doubt if I evercould make as perky a bow as Hannah does. I like the _perk_ but Ihaven't the faintest idea how to get it. "

Jean laughed. 

She and her uncle had many a joke together. 

"He is better at a joke than Uncle Tom is, " confided Jean to Hannah. 

In fact Uncle Bob joked so much that it was hard to tell when he wasserious, and so one day when he came into the library where Jean wasand swept all the dolls on the couch over into the corner, laughinglydemanding how Jean would like to go to Europe, she paid no attention tohim. 

"Seems to me you are not a very enthusiastic or grateful young woman, "said he at last tweaking a curl that hung low on her cheek. "Here I aminviting you to tour the world with me and all you say is: 'I'll thinkabout it!' How's that for gratitude?"

"If you had any intention of taking me I might be more grateful, " Jeananswered, fastening the gown of the doll she was dressing, and holdingher at arm's length to enjoy the effect. 

"But I am entirely serious, my young friend; I never was more so. I amimploring you to go to Italy, for go I must, and I have no mind toleave you behind. "

"To Italy? To real Italy, Uncle Bob? Do you mean it?"

"I surely do, dear child. Behold me, solemn as an owl. Ah, now youbegin to listen. It would serve you right if I should refuse to takesuch an ungrateful lady. What say you? Should you like to go?"

"Like it! I'd love it! I've never been on an ocean trip in all mylife. "

"You may not care to go on another after you've been on this one, "chuckled Uncle Bob. "However, the fact remains that we are going. Ihave charge of decorating a very beautiful house in the suburbs and Iam going over to Florence to order some marble stairways andfireplaces. That is my excuse. Incidentally we can make a pleasant tripout of it and see many places besides Italy. "

"Could we go to Venice?" burst out Jean. "Venice is in Italy, isn't it?I'd like of all places to see Venice with its water streets and itsgondolas. "

"Yes, honey, you certainly shall see Venice and ride in all thegondolas you like. "

"Splendid!" cried Jean, clapping her hands. "When can we start? Let'sgo right away, " and springing up from the couch she whirled toward thedoor. 

"Slowly, slowly!" protested Uncle Bob. "Come back here to me a moment, you flyaway. Many things must be decided before we sail for Italy. Inthe first place there is Hannah; what shall we do with her?"

"Oh, Hannah must come along with us, " Jean answered. "She'll have to. We never could think of going to Europe and leaving good old Hannah, who is so kind to both of us, now could we? Besides, she has to fix myhair every morning, and mend my clothes. I'd be coming to pieces allover Europe if Hannah didn't go. "

"Well, then, that settles it. Hannah goes. I never could consent toescort a young lady who might drop to pieces at any moment and strewher belongings all along the route from Italy to Scotland. Now aboutEsther, the waitress. She wants to go West and visit her brother; thiswill be just the chance. Suppose we tie a long string to her and lether go. Then we come to Beacon. "

"Beacon would go with us, of course, " Jean replied quickly. "You may besure I'd never leave Beacon at home. I'd rather not go myself. "

"But, girlie, we couldn't very well----"

"Why, Uncle Bob! You don't mean to say you thought of leaving Beacon!If you did I simply sha'n't go. That's all there is about it. I shallnever, never be parted from Beacon--never!"

"Listen, dear. Beacon wouldn't enjoy going. We could not get for himthe food to which he is accustomed, nor would they admit him to thepicture galleries which we shall visit. I doubt if he would even carefor the gondolas. "

"No, I'm sure he would not like the gondolas, " admitted Jean smilingfaintly, "because Hannah and I tried him on the swan-boats in thePublic Garden and he hated them; he just barked and snarled all thetime, and wriggled about so in my arms that he nearly went overboardand carried me with him. "

"That's just it! That is precisely the way he would feel on shipboard. Now my plan is this. We'll send him out to Pittsburgh for Uncle Tom totake care of until you get back. Then when you go out there in Octoberyour doggie will be nicely settled in his other home and waiting foryou. In fact, " confessed Uncle Bob a little sheepishly, "I wrote UncleTom and asked how he would feel about adding a puppy to his household. This is his answer:

 "'_European plan excellent. Send Beacon. Next best thing to Jean. _'"

"Dear Uncle Tom! He is awfully good, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. I fancy he will decide so, too, when he finds all his sofacushions torn, and his shoes chewed up, " chuckled Uncle Bob. "Let himtake his turn at it. "

Beacon provided for, the remainder of the European plan seemed simpleenough. To be sure there was Hannah, who at first flatly refused to beseparated from the golden dome of the State House or from the Boston"Evening Transcript. " At last, however, after much persuasion sheconsented to suffer these deprivations for the common good, and broughtherself to purchasing the necessary clothing for Jean and herself. Tothese she added French, German and Italian dictionaries because, as sheexplained: "We might get lost or parted from your Uncle Bob somehow, and you never can tell what will happen in those heathen countrieswhere the poor people cannot speak English. How men and women can livein places where they talk those dreadful languages and use that queermoney when they might come over here to Boston----"

"That's right, Hannah, " agreed Uncle Bob, playfully urging her on. 

"And all that strange weather! Why, I read only the other day that inItaly they just have summer all the year round. So foolish! They neverget any snow at all--think of that! It is such a slack and lazy way todo always to be wearing one set of things and never getting out anywinter flannels. I shouldn't know where I was if I didn't chalk off theseasons by my house cleaning, preserving, getting out the furs, andputting them away. I just know those Italians live without any system. How could they be expected to have any when it's summer all the time?"

She sniffed scornfully. 

In fact Hannah sniffed a good many times before the great ship whichwas carrying them to Naples docked beneath the shadow of Vesuvius. Thestaterooms she termed little coops, and the berths nothing more norless than shelves. 

"When I go to bed, Mr. Bob, I feel exactly as if I was a sheet put awayin the linen closet. "

Uncle Bob and Jean both laughed. Hannah kept them royally entertained. 

"As for these clocks that strike every hour but the right one--I'venothing to say, " she went on. "If the captain prefers to ring two whenhe means nine, well and good. He runs the ship and it is his lookout, although I will say it is hard on the rest of us. He explains that ithas something to do with the watch--whose watch I don't know; his own, I suppose. Evidently he has some queer way of telling time, some theoryhe is free to work out when he is here in the middle of the ocean awayfrom land. Be glad, Jean, that you learned to tell time properly, andthat you live with people who are content to use the old method and donot set themselves up to invent a system that is a puzzle to every onebut themselves. "

Thus Hannah measured every new experience, applying to it the BeaconHill standard. If it conformed to what was done in Boston it was quitecorrect, but if it varied in the least it was condemned as"ridiculous. "

To Jean, on the contrary, the voyage was one of unending delight. Sheproved herself an excellent sailor, and was never tired of playingshuffle-board on the deck or pacing to and fro with Uncle Bob in thefresh breeze. And when at last Gibraltar was reached and she actuallybeheld the coasts of Spain, Africa and Italy, her wonder grew until shesaid she had to pinch herself to be sure she was alive and notdreaming. It was a journey of marvels. 

"I feel exactly as if I had gone down the rabbit hole with Alice, " sheexclaimed, squeezing Uncle Bob's arm as they were disembarking atNaples. 

Uncle Bob was in such a hurry to reach Florence that the travelers didnot stay long in Naples--only long enough to visit the famous Aquariumwith its myriad of strange sea creatures, and to take a flying glimpseof the Museum. It was at the latter place that Jean saw the celebratedNaples Vase which, Uncle Bob told her, was found over a hundred yearsago in a tomb in Pompeii. 

"It probably was made by very skilful Grecian workmen about the year 70A. D. Think how wonderful it is that there were artists living manythousands of years ago who knew how to make such a beautiful thing. Look closely at it, Jean, for it is one of the art treasures of theworld. "

Jean looked. 

The vase, scarcely more than a foot in height, was of dark blue glass, and had upon it in white a design of delicate Grecian figures. 

"It was first made with a coating of white opaque glass entirely overthe blue, " Uncle Bob explained. "Then the artist with extreme care andsome sharp instrument cut this beautiful picture of the harvestgatherers. Notice, too, how the pattern is repeated on the handles. Itis a pity the base or foot of the vase is missing; it was probably ofgold and was doubtless stolen at some time. There is now made inEngland a kind of pottery called Wedgwood, which has much this sameeffect although, of course, it is far less perfectly fashioned. "

"I'm glad I do not have this thing to dust, " Hannah observed grimly. 

"Well you may be, Hannah, " Uncle Bob retorted, "for the vase is worththousands of dollars. There are in the world several very famous glassvases--this is one; the Auldjo Vase, also from Pompeii and now in theBritish Museum, is another; and the Portland Vase, which is there too, makes a third. The design on the Portland Vase is considered even finerthan this. We shall see it and I will tell you its history when we getto London. "

What weren't they to see!

Jean's head was a jumble of fairy anticipations--of Crown Jewels, palaces, gondolas, famous pictures, and scenes of undreamed of beauty. The Tower of London merged itself with visions of Napoleon's Tomb, while in and out of her mind flitted fragmentary pictures of Notre Dameand the Vatican. Everything seemed so old!

"At first I stood with my mouth open when I was told things were built, or dug up, or made hundreds of years ago, " laughed Jean. "But now Ifind I am growing fussy, and unless a thing is thousands of years oldit scarcely seems worth looking at. How horribly new they must think usin America! Even Bunker Hill and the State House, Hannah, are verymodern, " she added teasingly. 

"Now, Jean, if this trip to Europe is going to make you turn up yournose at your native land the best thing you can do is to face round andgo straight back home, " was Hannah's severe reply. 

"There, there, you dear old thing! Don't worry. I love my America, butyou should have learned by this time that I never can resist seeing youbristle. But even you, bigoted as you are, must admit that a great dealseems to have happened in the world before we on the other side of thesea were alive at all. "

"Much of it, " observed Hannah with dignity, "was nothing to be proudof, and it's as well they kept it on this side of the ocean. "

From Naples Uncle Bob whirled his bewildered charges to Rome and thento Florence, and while he was busy transacting business Hannah and Jeanwere put in charge of a courier and taken to see so many pictures andchurches that Hannah begged never to be shown another masterpiece oranother spire so long as she lived. 

"Bless your heart, Mr. Bob, if you were to lean the Sistine Madonnaright up against the table in my room I wouldn't turn my head to lookat it. And as for churches--I wouldn't accept Westminster Abbey as agift. Tell 'em not to urge it on me, for I wouldn't take it even if Icould get it through the customs free of duty. The things I'd like bestat this very minute would be an east wind and some baked beans. "

But when they reached Venice and saw their first gondola even Hannahwas forced to admit that it far outshone the Boston swan-boats. Thetravelers arrived late at night, and on passing through the stationcame out on a broad platform where, instead of cabs and cars, numberless gondolas floated, illumined by twinkling lights. 

"Oh!" murmured Jean in a hushed whisper. 

It was indeed a beautiful sight. Before them a stretch of water floodedby the full moon wandered off into a multitude of tiny canals shut inon either side by murky dwellings of stone or brick. In and out ofthese dim little avenues plied boatmen who shouted a warning in shrillItalian as they rounded the turns. 

Uncle Bob lost no time in summoning a gondolier, and soon the partywere being swept along by the sturdy strokes of a swarthy Venetian who, Hannah declared in an undertone, looked like nothing so much as afull-fledged brigand. She could not be persuaded to take her hand offher luggage, but sat clutching it with all her strength until shearrived at the hotel. Jean, on the other hand, was too excited by thenovelty of the scene to know or care what the boatman looked like. Herone fear seemed to be that if she went to bed and allowed herself tofall asleep the wonderful water streets might vanish forever. It tookall Uncle Bob's pleading to make her close her eyes. At last, however, she did and when she opened them in the morning her very first thoughtwas to fly to the window and see if the canals were still there. 

No, it was not a dream!

There were the moving gondolas, the narrow water streets, and theglorious dome of Del Salute directly opposite across the sparklingexpanse of the Grand Canal. 

Jean suppressed a cry of delight, and scurried into her clothes. 

"Now, Uncle Bob, " she announced at breakfast, "I want to go straightout in a gondola the minute I have finished my chocolate and rolls. Ithink I am pretty good to stop for them at all. I want to go and stayuntil noon. May I?"

"Well, let me think a second, little girl, " replied Uncle Bob. "I amafraid I must run over to the bankers' directly after breakfast, so Iwon't be able to start right away; I can, however, take you later. "Then as he saw Jean's face fall he added, "You and Hannah may go earlyif you like and come back for me at eleven. How will that do?"

"It will do beautifully only I wish you could be with us. How shall weknow how to get a boatman, or tell him where to take us? I am sure Icouldn't, and Hannah's Italian is not very good, although, " with amischievous smile, "I suppose she could use her dictionary. "

"I will arrange everything with a gondolier before I leave for thebankers', " Uncle Bob answered. "Now I must be running along. Supposethe gondola is here at half-past nine. "

"The earlier the better, " cried Jean. 

Promptly at the hour set the gondola glided up to the steps of theGrand Canal Hotel where Jean and Hannah were waiting. It was anunusually beautiful gondola, with scarlet curtains and a gilded prowcarved in the shape of a woman's head. 

Jean sprang forward, all eagerness, her eyes on the magic apparition. Then suddenly her foot slipped on the slime left by the tide on themarble step, and she would have fallen into the water had not a youngboy, with rare presence of mind, leaped forward and caught her. 

Another moment and Hannah, white with fright, had the girl in her arms. 

"Oh, my dear child!" she wailed. "My precious lamb! Thank goodness, youare safe. Think if you'd been drowned before you had had a chance tosee Venice at all! But you are quite safe now, honey. Don't befrightened. Young man, " and she turned to the boy, "that was a gooddeed of yours. What is your name? But there--how silly to be asking himwhen he can't understand a word I'm saying. I forgot no one couldunderstand anything in this queer, upside-down town where the streetsare water when they ought to be land. "

To her utter astonishment, however, the boy answered in English, which, although slightly broken, was perfectly intelligible. 

"My name is Giusippe Cicone. "

"Say it again, " demanded Hannah. "Say it more slowly. "

"Giusippe Cicone. "

"Giusippe, " echoed Hannah, "Giusippe Cicone. There! Giusippe Cicone. Igot it better that time. Giusippe Cicone. Now I have it! Well, MasterGiusippe Cicone, it was very good of you to save this little lady froma ducking in your canal which, if I may be permitted to say so, is notas clean as it might be. We are very much obliged to you, and here issome money to pay you for being so quick. "

The boy shook his head. 

"I could not take money for saving the señorita from the water, "protested he proudly. "I was glad to do it. I could not take pay. "

"Well, I thank you very much, " Jean ventured shyly. 

He helped Hannah and the girl into the waiting gondola and then stoodon the steps shading his eyes with his brown hand as the gondolier madehis way to the oar. 

"Perhaps you can tell us where we can find you if we should want to seeyou again, " called Hannah as the distance between them widened. 

"Certainly. I am at Murano. " He pointed across the lagoon to a distantisland. 

"Murano?"

"Yes, I work there. Every one knows me at the glass works. "

[Illustration: "EVERY ONE KNOWS ME AT THE GLASS WORKS"]

He waved his hand and was soon lost to sight. 

"I do wonder who he is, " speculated Jean, who had now quite recoveredfrom her fright and could smile at the memory of the episode. "And howstrange that he understood English!"

"I don't call it strange, " Hannah responded. "English is the onlysensible language, and probably this boy realizes it. I think it speakswell for his discrimination. "

"Anyway, he was a gentleman not to take the money; and yet he lookedpoor, " reflected the girl. 

"One may be a gentleman despite poverty, thank goodness, " Hannah said. "Your uncle will probably insist upon hunting him up and thanking him. I can't see, Jean, how you came to slip that way. Wasn't the boatmanholding on to you?" and for the tenth time every detail of the disasterhad to be gone over. 

"Well, all I can say is that if anything had happened to you I nevershould have dared show my face to your Uncle Bob. And think of yourUncle Tom at home--he would have things to say! They would both blameme even if it was not my fault, " sighed Hannah. 

"Of course it wasn't your fault. How could you possibly be to blame ifI was so heedless as to rush ahead without looking where I was going?I'm always doing that, Hannah; you know I am. I am always in such ahurry to enjoy the things I like that I never can wait a moment. Thisis a good lesson for me. I just hope the salt water won't spoil my newtan shoes. Come! Let us talk of something pleasanter. Isn't it tooperfectly lovely out here? Look back at the shore and see how St. Mark's and the Campanile stand out. I know those already, because Iremember seeing pictures of them in my geography. Oh, I am so glad weare here! I am sure we shall have a wonderful time in Venice even if Idid begin by nearly drowning myself in the canal. "

"It is all very well to laugh about it now, " Hannah answered solemnly, "but it was no laughing matter when it happened--no laughing matter!"

CHAPTER III

GIUSIPPE TELLS A STORY

When Uncle Bob heard of Jean's adventure he lost no time, you may besure, in hunting up Giusippe Cicone. A note was sent to Murano askingthat the lad call at the hotel; and as the following day chanced to bea festa day the glass works were closed and Giusippe presented himselfdirectly after breakfast. He was neatly although poorly clothed, andhad he had no other claim to Mr. Cabot's good will than his frank facethat would have won him a welcome. Perhaps added to Uncle Bob'sgratitude there was, too, a measure of the artist's joy in thebeautiful; for Giusippe was handsome. Thick brown hair clustered aboutthe well-formed head; his eyes were of soft hazel; and into his roundolive cheek was steeped the rich crimson of the southern sun. More thanall this, he was a well bred lad--manly, courteous, and proud. When Mr. Cabot began to thank him for his service to Jean the boy made light ofwhat he had done and once more refused to accept any reward. 

Uncle Bob's curiosity was aroused. 

Never before had he met an Italian who would not take money when it wasoffered him. 

"Perhaps you would be willing, young man, to tell us more aboutyourself, " said he at last. "You work in the glass factory, you say. Have you been long there?"

Giusippe smiled, showing two rows of dazzling white teeth. 

"So long, señor, that I cannot remember when I was not there. Andbefore me was my father, and my grandfather; and before that hisfather; and so on back for years and years. There was always a Ciconeat Murano. For you must know, señor, that glass-making has ever beenthe great art of Venice. When paintings began to take the place of theglass mosaics then came the height of fame for Venetian glass. For youwill remember that for many years before artists could paint peoplemade pictures out of bits of glass, and in this way represented tothose who had no books scenes from the Bible or from history. Thenwonderful painters were born in Italy and they crowded out the mosaicmakers, who had previously decorated the churches, palaces, and publicbuildings. The making of glass mosaics died out and it was then thatthe Venetian artisans turned their attention and their skill to themaking of other glass things--beads, mirrors, drinking cups, andornaments. In fact, " went on Giusippe, "there soon became so many glasshouses in Venice that the Great Council feared a terrible fire mightsweep the island, and in 1291, with the exception of a few factoriesfor small articles, all the glass houses were banished to the island ofMurano a mile distant where, if fire came, no destruction could be doneto the city of Venice itself. Those factories which were allowed toremain had to have a space of fifteen paces around them. By the decreeof the Council the other glass houses were torn down. "

"And it was thus that your great-great-great-great-great-grandfatherwas driven to Murano, was it?" queried Mr. Cabot. 

"Yes. He was a member of the guild of bead-makers. For you know, señor, that in those days workmen were banded together in guilds, and kept the mysteries of their trade to themselves. The precioussecret was handed down from father to son. So it was with mygreat-great-great-great-great-grandfather. "

Giusippe drew himself up. 

"Oh, it was a grand thing to be a glass-maker in those days, señor!"continued the boy, his eyes glowing. "The members of the guilds were sohonored in Venice that they were considered equal in birth to thenoblest families. They were gentlemen. A titled woman felt only pridein uniting herself with a glass-maker's family. "

"Perhaps that is what your great-great-great-great-great-grandmotherdid, " Jean said, half aloud. 

"Yes, señorita, " was Giusippe's simple answer. "And they say, too, shewas beautiful. My ancestor was of the _pater-nostereri_; he was a makerof beads for rosaries. Then there were the _margaritai_, who made smallbeads; and the _fuppialume_, who made large blown beads. Each man was askilled artist, you see, and did some one special thing. The _phiolari_made vases, cups, and glass for windows; the _cristallai_ opticalglass; and the _specchiai_ mirrors. No strangers were allowed to visitthe glass works, and all apprentices must pass a rigid examination notonly as to their skill, but as to their previous personal history. In1495 the glass houses at Murano extended for a mile along a singlestreet and the great furnaces roared night and day, so you can imaginehow much glass was made on the island. "

"My!" gasped Jean breathlessly. 

"Absolute loyalty to the art was demanded of every man engaged in it, "Giusippe said. "And you can see, señor, that this was necessary. Anyworkman carrying the secrets elsewhere was first warned to return toVenice; then, if he refused, his nearest relative was imprisoned; if hestill refused to obey he was tracked down and killed. Often glass-makerswere found in Padua, Ravenna, and other places stabbed through theheart, and the word _Traitor_ was fastened to the dagger. "

Jean shuddered. 

"Do not tremble, señorita, " Giusippe said. "It was a just punishment. You see the Council of Ten felt that the prosperity of the Venetiansdepended upon keeping their art away from all the outside world whichwas so eager to learn it. All knew the penalty for disloyalty. Thedecree read:

 "'_If any workman conveys his art to a strange country to the detriment of the Republic he shall be sent an order to return to Venice. Failing to obey his nearest of kin shall be imprisoned. If he still persists in remaining abroad and plying his art an emissary shall be charged to kill him. _'

"In this way the secrets of glass-making were kept in Venice and theRepublic soon became famous and prosperous. As the reputation of theVenetian glass-makers spread an immense trade was established. Mygrandfather has often told me of the great numbers of beads which weresent everywhere throughout the East--sometimes to Africa and even toIndia. In 1764 twenty-two great furnaces were kept busy supplying thebeads that were demanded. Frequently, they say, as many as forty-fourthousand barrels were turned out in a single week. "

"Why, I should think that everybody in the world would have beencovered with beads!" Jean exclaimed, smiling. 

"Ah, I can tell you something stranger than that, señorita. So populardid Venetian glass of every variety become that a foreign princecreated a great sensation by appearing in Paris with curls of finelyspun black glass. "

Jean and Uncle Bob laughed merrily. 

"I think myself he was silly, " Giusippe declared, echoing theiramusement. "He, however, was not alone in his admiration for thebeautiful and ingenious workmanship of the people of my country, foreven as far back as 1400 Richard the Second of England gave permissionto our Venetian merchants to sell glass aboard their galleys, dutyfree; and King Henry the Eighth owned as many as four or five hundredVenetian drinking goblets, vases, dishes, and plates, some of which, they say, are still in the British Museum. "

"We must see them when we go to London, mustn't we, Uncle Bob?" criedJean eagerly. 

"We surely must. All this is very interesting, Giusippe. You do well toremember so much of your country's history, " said Mr. Cabot. 

"I am proud of it, señor. Besides I have heard it many, many times. Mypeople were never tired of telling over and over the story of the olddays; the golden days of Venice, my father called them. The Republicmight have retained its fame much longer had not some of our countrymenbeen persuaded to go to other lands and sell their secrets for gold. Itwas thus that the art of making mirrors was taken into France andGermany. "

"Tell us about it, Giusippe, " pleaded Jean. 

"Why, as I think I told you, the Venetians began to make mirrors asearly as 1300. Of course, señorita, they were crude affairs--not at alllike the fine ones of to-day, but to people who had nothing better theywere marvels. And indeed they were both clever and beautiful. For youmust remember that ages ago there was no such thing as a looking-glass. Men and women could only see their reflections in streams, pools, andfountains. Then the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans began to make mirrorsof burnished metal, using bits of brass or bronze often beautifullydecorated on the back with classic Grecian figures. Rich women carriedsuch mirrors fastened to their girdles or sometimes instead had themfitted into small, shallow boxes of carved ivory; sometimes too themirror was set in a case of gold, silver, enamel, or ebony withintricate decoration on the outside. That was the first ofmirror-making. "

"How curious!"

"Later the Venetians experimented and began backing pieces of glasswith mercury or tin. The surface was first covered with tinfoil andthen rubbed down until smooth; then the whole was coated withquicksilver, which formed an amalgam with the tin. It does no harm totell you about it now, señorita, " added Giusippe a little sadly, "forevery one knows. This process was slow and unsatisfactory, but it wasthe best the workmen then knew. These mirrors they set in elaborateframes of glass, silver, carved wood, mother-of-pearl, coral, tarsi, orinto frames of painted wood. Some of them were sent by Venetian noblesas gifts to kings and queens of other countries; often they werepurchased by royalties themselves. You can see many in the museums ofFrance, Germany, or England. "

"We will hunt them up, Jean, " Uncle Bob declared. 

"I'd love to see them, " replied the girl. 

"My father has told me that there were frequent quarrels between theglass-makers and the mirror-framers because, you see, the framerswanted to learn the secret of making the mirrors, and the mirror-makerswere jealous of the skill of the framers and feared the frame would bemore beautiful than the mirror itself and so overshadow it. Then in1600 the French stole from our people the secret of mirror-making andbegan turning out mirrors not only as good, but in some respects betterthan the Venetian ones. "

"Oh, Giusippe, how did they steal the secret?" Jean cried. "Howdreadful!"

"It was through the treachery of our own countrymen, señorita, "Giusippe confessed. "Yes, sorry as I am to say so, it was our ownfault. The French, you see, as well as the Venetians, had long beenexperimenting with glass-making and since it was considered there, ashere, an art, many penniless Huguenot gentlemen who had lost theirfortunes took it up; for one might be a glass-maker and still retainhis noble rank. Such was Bernard Palissy----"

"The potter!" interrupted Jean. "I learned all about him in myhistory. "

Giusippe nodded. 

"So? Then you know how he struggled for years to solve the secret ofmaking the enamel he had seen on a Saracen cup. Palissy also made somefine old stained glass, although few people seem to know this. Manyanother Frenchman tried to discover the Venetian's great secret. Theysought to bribe our people to tell the process, but without success. Then Colbert, the chief minister under Louis the Fourteenth, wrote theFrench ambassador at Venice that he must obtain for France someVenetian workmen. The ambassador was upset enough, as you may imagine, when he received the order. He said he could not do it. He dared not. If found out he would be thrown into the sea. "

"He ought to have been!" Jean cried. "He would have deserved it. "

"I think so too, " Uncle Bob agreed. 

"It would have been far better for Venice had he been drowned in theAdriatic, " Giusippe answered slowly. "But he wasn't. Instead he begancautiously to look about. There are always in the world, señor, men whohave no pride in their fatherland and can be bought with money. Thenext year the ambassador succeeded in bribing eighteen glass-makers togo to France and make mirrors for Versailles, the palace of the Frenchking. And no sooner had these men got well to work and passed themystery on to the French than Colbert forbade the French people toimport any more mirrors from Venice, as mirrors could now be made athome. Some of these early French mirrors are now in the Cluny Museum inFrance, my father told me. In consequence of the treachery of theseworkmen Germany also soon learned how to make mirrors, and the fame ofthe Venetian artisans declined just as the Council had predicted itwould. But it will be long before any other country can equal mine inthe making of filigree or spun glass. You will, señorita, see much ofthis beautiful work while you are here in Venice. "

"I want to, Giusippe; and I want to get some to take home. May I, UncleBob?"

Mr. Cabot nodded. 

"Your story is like a fairy tale, Giusippe, " said he. 

The boy smiled with pleasure. 

"It is a wonderful story to me because it is the story of my people. And, señor, there is much more to tell, but I must not weary you. Someof our filigree glass, it is true, became too elaborate to bebeautiful. It is simply interesting because it is wonderful that out ofglass could be fashioned ships, flowers, fruits, fish, and decorationsof all kinds. It shows most delicate workmanship. But the drinkingglasses with their fragile stems are really beautiful; and so are thevases and tazzas from white glass with enamel work or filigree ofdelicately blended colors. It was the Venetians, too, who inventedengraved glass, where a design is scratched or cut into the surfacewith a diamond or steel point of a file. And our mille-fiori glass, which came to us way back from the Egyptians, is another famousvariety. This is made from the ends of fancy colored sticks of glasscut off and arranged in a pattern. You will see it in the shops here. "

"I think you Venetians are wonderful!" Jean exclaimed. 

"Ah, señorita, you have yet to see one of the finest things we havedone, " was Giusippe's grave reply. "You have to see the San Marco withits mosaics!"

"Yes, we surely want to go there, " put in Mr. Cabot. "Do you think youcould be our guide, Giusippe?"

"I could go to-morrow, señor; because of the festa I am free from work. I would like to show you San Marco, of all things, because I love it. "

"I am sure no one could do it better, " replied Mr. Cabot, well pleased. "To-morrow at nine, then. We will be ready promptly. You shall tell usthe rest of your fascinating Venetian history and make Venetians ofus. "

"I will come, señor. "

"You shall be paid for your time, my boy. "

"Alas, señor! That would spoil it all. I could not then show it to you. Forgive me and do not think me ungrateful. But my San Marco is to methe place I love. I show it to you because I love it. I have playedabout it and wandered in and out its doors since I was a very littlechild. I am proud that you should see it, señor. "

"As you will. To-morrow then. "

"Yes, señor. "

Another moment and Giusippe was gone. 

"A remarkable boy! A most remarkable boy!" ejaculated Mr. Cabot. "Heknows his country's history as I fancy few others know it. Could youpass as good an examination on yours, Jean?"

Jean hung her head. 

"I'm afraid not. "

"Nor I, " Uncle Bob remarked, patting her curls kindly. 

CHAPTER IV

UNCLE BOB ENLARGES HIS PARTY

In accordance with his promise Giusippe came promptly the next morningand the four set out for the San Marco. It was a beautiful June day. The piazza was warm with sunshine, and as groups of tourists loiteredthrough it the pigeons circled greedily about their feet begging food. 

"Why, Uncle Bob, these pigeons are exactly like the ones at home--justas pretty and just as hungry, " Jean said. 

"Should you like to stop a moment and feed them, little girl?"

"Oh, do! It will make Hannah think of Boston, " begged Jean. "But wehave nothing to give them, " she added in dismay. 

"I will find you something, señorita, " Giusippe declared. 

Darting up to an old Italian who was standing near he soon returnedwith a small paper cornucopia filled with grain. 

"The pigeons of St. Mark's are very tame. See!"

He put some kernels of corn on the top of his hat, and holding more inhis outstretched hands stood motionless. There was a whirr of wings, and in an instant the boy was quite hidden beneath an eager multitudeof fluttering whiteness. 

"I never saw so many pigeons, " Jean whispered. "You have many more thanwe do at home. "

"We Venetians are very fond of the birds, " was Giusippe's reply. "So, too, are the tourists who come to Venice, for they never seem to betired of having their pictures taken surrounded by flocks of pigeons. "

"Doesn't this make you think of Boston Common, Hannah?" asked UncleBob. 

"Yes, a little. But I should feel more as if I were in Massachusetts ifthere were not such a babel of foreign tongues about me. " Then turningto Giusippe she demanded: "How did you come to speak English, youngman?"

"I have been expecting you would ask me that, " smiled Giusippe. "Yousee, I have an uncle who went to America; yes, to Pennsylvania, to seekhis fortune. He stayed there five years and in that time he learned tospeak English well. When he came back he taught me all he knew. Then hereturned with his wife to the United States, and I got books andstudied. When they found at Murano that I could speak English theyoften called on me to show tourists over the glass works. In this way Ipicked up many words and their pronunciation. Since then I have foundthat I could sometimes serve as interpreter for English or Americantravelers if I watched for the chance. I was eager for suchopportunities, for it gave me practice, and I often learned new words. "

"And why are you so anxious to learn English, Giusippe?" Jeanquestioned. 

"I hope, señorita, to go some day to the United States. My uncle toldme what a wonderful country it is, and I desire to see it. Perhaps inthat beautiful great land where everything is in abundance I might growrich. I now have nothing to keep me here; my parents are dead and Ihave no other kinsmen. I want to join my uncle in Pennsylvania as soonas I have enough money. Part of my passage I have already saved. "

"Why, Giusippe!"

"Yes, señorita, I am in earnest. It is lonely here in Venice now that Ihave no people. And Murano is not what it was in the golden days of myancestors. I am sure I could find work in your country if I should gothere. Do you not think I could, señor?" He turned to Mr. Cabot. 

"It is possible, " was Uncle Bob's thoughtful answer. "Especially sinceyou speak English so well. What sort of thing would you like to do?"

"I know my trade of glass-making, " was Giusippe's modest answer. "Iknow, too, much of coloring stained glass and of mosaic making. Thesethings I have known from my babyhood up. There must be such work forpersons going to the United States. Perhaps my uncle, who is inPittsburgh with a large glass company, could get me something to dothere. "

"Pittsburgh!" exclaimed the other three in a breath. 

"Yes. My uncle is with the company of a Señor Thomas Curtis, who hasbeen very kind to him. "

"Uncle Tom! It's Uncle Tom!" Jean cried, laying her hand impulsively onhis arm. "Mr. Curtis is my uncle, Giusippe. Did you ever hear anythingso wonderful!"

"It certainly is a strange coincidence, " agreed Mr. Cabot. "But why didyour uncle come back, Giusippe, after he once got over there?"

"Ah, it was this way. He went first alone, expecting when he had enoughmoney to send it back so that the young girl he loved could follow him, and they could be married. But when at last he had the money saved herparents became sick. They were old people. She could not leave them todie here alone, señor. Therefore she refused to go to America, and somuch did my uncle love Anita that he would not stay there without her. Back he came and worked once more at Murano. Then the father and motherdied, and my uncle and Anita were married and went to the UnitedStates. They wanted to take me, but I pretended that I would ratherremain here. This I did because I feared that if I went with them anddid not find work I might be a burden. All this was several years ago. My uncle is now a superintendent in one of the Curtis glass factories, and is happy and prosperous. Still, there are children, and I could notlet him pay my fare to America. As I said, it will not take me muchlonger to save the rest of my passage money. Then I shall go andperhaps become rich. Who knows, señor!" Giusippe broke into a ringinglaugh. 

Mr. Cabot made no reply. 

He was thinking. 

Fearing that he had offended, Giusippe changed the subject. 

"But I weary you with my affairs, señor. Pardon. Shall we go on to St. Mark's?"

It was but a few steps across the piazza, and they were soon inside thechurch. Then for the first time Mr. Cabot spoke. 

"This church, Jean, " said he, "is the link between the old art of theMohammedans and the Gothic art of the Christian era. It was planned asa Byzantine church, and in it one can see many things suggesting St. Sofia's at Constantinople. When St. Mark's at Alexandria was destroyedby the Mohammedans many of its treasures fell into the hands of theDoge of Venice, who promptly proclaimed St. Mark the new patron saintin place of St. Theodore and set about building a cathedral in which toput all the beautiful things he had acquired. Some parts of thisancient cathedral remain, but most of the church was built by DogeContarini between 1063 and 1071. To the next Doge, Domenico Selvo, fellthe task of decorating it. You see, over here the building of churchestakes longer than it does at home. "

"I should think it did, " answered Jean. "Why, we think it is awful ifour churches are not all done in two years. "

Giusippe smiled. 

"Ah, we build not that way here, señorita, " he said. "Three centuriesdid our people spend in building into St. Mark's the marble carvingsbrought from the East; erecting the altars; and adorning the walls. These mosaics alone it took workmen two hundred and fifty years tofashion. Venice was a rich Republic, you see, and could well afford toput into this cathedral the money she might have spent on war. Abovethe slabs of marble are the mosaics, señorita. So it was in St. Sofia, my father told me; the slabs of marble near the ground and thedecoration above. This whole cathedral of ours is covered on all thewalls with mosaics--pictures made from bits of glass put together toform scenes from the Bible or from history. Even the most ignorantpeople who had had no schooling could read such stories, could theynot?"

Jean nodded. 

She was dazzled by the beauty of the place--by the soft light; thewalls rich in gold and color; by the many wonderful things there wereto be seen. She was interested, too, in the smoothly worn, uneven floorwhich showed where the piles beneath the church had settled. 

"Mosaic makers, you know, Jean, began crude attempts at making picturesin glass thousands of years ago, for glass-making was familiar to theEgyptians as well as to the Phoenicans and Syrians. The Greeks andRomans, too, were great glass-makers. So glass-making came down throughthe ages. The Byzantine churches usually were lighted by a row of tinyglass windows round the base of the dome. Some of this ancient glassstill remains in St. Sofia. The common way of making such windows wasto cut a design in a slab of marble or plaster, and then insert smallpieces of colored glass. Sometimes, too, a pattern for wall decorationwas worked out by sticking fragments of glass into soft stucco. So thefirst mosaic work began. We can see some of it in the museums ofEngland. "

"There seems to be a great deal to see in those London museums, UncleBob, " Jean gasped. 

"I am afraid you will be more convinced of that fact than ever when youget there, " chuckled Uncle Bob. "But to return to Giusippe's mosaics. You may remember, perhaps, that when the Mohammedans invadedConstantinople and found how important a part the glass-makers playedin decorating the churches, they at once handed the artisans over tothe caliphs, that they might be set to work adorning their mosques. Nowthe Mohammedans believed it a crime to make a copy of either man orwoman in a picture, a carving, or a statue. It was punishable to payreverence to sacred figures; therefore all decoration in their churchestook the form of flowers, fruit, or conventional designs. So no greatmosaic pictures with figures such as these were made. Between thethirteenth and fourteenth centuries Damascus became the center ofglass-making, and there are in existence in some of the museums oldArab lamps which hung in the mosques with inscriptions from the Koranengraved upon them. It is Giusippe's St. Mark's which revived the artof mosaic making, and served as the bridge between those Pagan days andthe days when with Christianity the arts revived and mosaic makersbegan to represent in glass figures of Christ and the saints. "

"And then the painters came, as Giusippe has said, " put in Jean. 

"Yes, the great artists were born, and from that time pictures oncanvas instead of pictures of glass decorated the churches. But themosaic makers did an important service to art, for it was they whoindirectly gave to the world the idea of making stained-glass windows. And in Venice those who ceased to make mosaics made instead thebeautiful Venetian glass of which Giusippe has told us. "

"And are there no mosaics made now, Uncle Bob?" asked Jean. 

"Yes. When in 1858 it became necessary to restore some of the mosaicsin St. Mark's, a descendant of one of the old Murano glass workersnamed Radi, together with a Dr. Salviati, started a factory on theGrand Canal, where they gradually revived some of the past glory ofVenice. They copied the old time glass products, making Arab lamps suchas hung in the mosques; cameo work similar to the Naples and Portlandvases; and pictures in mosaic. It was they who did The Last Supper forWestminster Abbey, and the mosaics for Albert Memorial Hall in London. "

"But Salviati's mosaics were not like those here, señor, " put inGiusippe, "because the San Marco mosaics were constructed upon thewalls, small cubes of glass being pressed into the moist cement to makethe picture. This gave a rough, irregular surface which artists say isfar more artistic than is Salviati's smooth, glassy work. When Salviatisent mosaics away he made them here, and then backed them with cementso they could be placed on a slab of solid material and transportedgreat distances from Venice. His pictures, it is true, were far moreperfectly done than were the old mosaics--too perfectly, I have heardglass experts say. "

"Undoubtedly they are right, Giusippe, for the roughness in the ancientmosaics would, of course, break up the great plain surfaces and makethem more interesting. But Salviati did Venice a service, nevertheless, in reviving the art. And there is, too, another virtue about mosaics, and that is that they will endure far longer than paintings. Had it notbeen for the foresight of Pope Urban, who between 1600 and 1700 hadmany of the famous pictures of the Vatican copied in mosaic, thesemasterpieces would have been lost to the world. "

"I have been told that the church in Ravenna has some fine mosaics, butI never have seen them, " Giusippe ventured. 

"I have. They are beautiful, and I hope you may see them some time. Then there are others scattered through the various churches of Sicilyand Rome; and there are also many beautiful inlays of mosaic decoratingthe old churches and palaces of European cities. When we visitWestminster Abbey, Jean, I must show you the crude early mosaic work onthe tomb of Edward the Confessor. It is very curious, for it is made ofpieces of colored glass set in grooves of marble. "

"How much you are to see, señorita, " observed Giusippe wistfully. 

Mr. Cabot fixed his eyes attentively on the boy. 

"Should you, too, like to see all these wonders, Giusippe?" he askedhalf playfully and half in earnest. 

But Giusippe, who did not catch the banter in his tone, answeredseriously:

"Should I? Ah, señor, it is not for me to envy or be unhappy about thatwhich I may not have. Some day, perhaps, when I have made my fortune inyour country I can return to the old world and see its marvels. I musthave a little patience, that is all. "

The mingling of sadness and longing in the reply touched Uncle Bob;Jean and the young Venetian chattered on, but Mr. Cabot walked silentlyahead, deep in thought. 

"Did I understand you to say, Giusippe, " he asked at last turningabruptly, "that you have no relatives in Venice?"

"None in all the world with the exception of the uncle in America ofwhom I told you, señor. "

Again there was a pause. 

"Suppose I were to take you with us. "

"What, señor?"

"Take you with us now, when we leave Venice. "

"I do not understand. "

"Suppose I asked you to go with us to France and England, and thenacross to America. "

"But I have not enough money, señor. "

"I haven't much, either, " Mr. Cabot answered, smiling kindly into theboy's puzzled eyes. "Still, I think I could get together a sufficientsum to pay your way until you got to the United States and found work. "

"To go--to go with you now, do you mean, señor?"

"Yes. We leave Venice next week for France. You see, I like you, Giusippe; we all do. And in addition to that you have done us aservice. But more than anything else I feel that, once started, you arecapable of making your way and doing well in life; all you need is achance. I have perfect faith that if I took you to America you wouldmake good. It would cost very little more were you to join us, and nodoubt you could help in many little ways during the trip. Do you speakFrench at all?"

"Yes, some; but more German. It is nothing. Many travelers come toVenice, and one must talk to them. Then, too, here it is not unusual tospeak several languages, because the countries lie near together, andthe people come and go from place to place. With you it is different; amighty sea divides you from the rest of the world. "

"Despite all your excuses for us, Giusippe, it is quite true that weAmericans are as a rule pitiably ignorant about languages. Here is thisboy, Jean, who knows not only his mother tongue but French, German andEnglish besides. Isn't that a rebuke to us, with our fine schools andour college educations? It makes me ashamed of myself. Do you, littlegirl, try and do better than I have. Well, young man, what do you sayto my proposition? Will you come with us to America?"

"Señor! Oh, señor! How can I ever----"

"Well, then, that settles it, " interrupted Mr. Cabot, cutting himshort. "I will arrange everything. But there is just one condition tobe made, my youthful Venetian patriot. If by chance we see any of thoseold mirrors made by the early Frenchmen who stole your art from Muranoyou are not to smash them. Remember!"

Giusippe laughed. 

CHAPTER V

GIUSIPPE ENCOUNTERS AN OLD FRIEND

It was scarcely a reality to Jean, to Hannah, or to Giusippe himselfwhen Uncle Bob actually set forth for France with the young Venetian asa member of the party. Yet every one was pleased: Hannah because shewould not now need her foreign dictionaries; Jean because it was jollyto have a companion her own age; and Giusippe because he felt that atlast he had friends who were to guide for him the future which hadloomed so darkly and so vaguely before him. Not a full week of the tripto Paris had passed before Mr. Cabot declared that how he hadpreviously got on without that boy he did not understand. Giusippe hadsuch a wonderful way of making himself useful; not only did he see whatneeded to be done, but he was quick to do it. 

"His enthusiasm alone is worth the money I am paying for his railroadfares and hotel bills!" ejaculated Uncle Bob to Hannah. 

There certainly never was such a boy to take in everything around him, and to remember what he saw. With mind alert for all that was to belearned he tagged along at Mr. Cabot's heels drinking in and storingaway every scrap of history and of beauty which came across his path. And in Paris he found much of both. The Invalides with the tomb ofNapoleon; Notre Dame with its odd gargoyles; the Arc de Triomphe; theBois; and the Champs-Elysees shaded by pink horse-chestnut trees--allthese sights were new and marvelous to the Italian lad. But it wasVersailles with its gardens that charmed him and Jean most. 

The travelers arrived there on a Sunday, when the fountains wereplaying, flowers blooming everywhere, and a gay crowd of sightseersthronging the walks. It was like fairy-land. The great Neptune fountainsent into the air a sheet of spray which was quickly caught up by thesunlight and transformed into a misty rainbow. Within the palace, amidold tapestries of battles and hunting scenes, and surrounded bypaintings and statues, were the famous early French mirrors of whichGiusippe had previously spoken. 

Mr. Cabot pointed them out, half playfully, half seriously. 

"Perhaps on further consideration I will leave them, " returned the boy, falling in with the spirit of the elder man's mood. "They seem to fitthe spaces, and I doubt if even our Venetian mirrors could look betterhere. "

"I think it might be just as well, " answered Mr. Cabot. "Besides, youmust remember that those mirrors were not the only sort of glass theFrench made. There were many enamel workers at Provençe as early as1520, and later much cast glass instead of that which is blown camefrom France. In fact, up to a hundred years ago the French held theplate glass monopoly. Then England took up glass-making and cut intothe French market--the same old story of stealing the trade, you see. In addition to other varieties of glass-making some of the finest andmost interesting of the old stained glass was made by the Frenchpeople, and can now be seen in the church of St. Denis, just out ofParis, and at Sainte Chapelle which is within the city itself. Fortunately the glass at St. Denis escaped the fury of the Frenchrevolutionists, as it might not have done had it not been at a littledistance from Paris. There is also glass of much the same sort atPoitiers, Bourges, and Rheims. Amiens, too, has wonderful glasswindows. I hope before we leave for home we shall have a peep at someif not all of these. "

"Isn't much beautiful French glass now made at Nancy, Mr. Cabot?"Giusippe inquired. 

"Yes, some of the finest comes from there. "

"But didn't any other people beside the Venetians and the French makeglass, Uncle Bob?" asked Jean, much interested. 

"Oh, yes. Almost every European nation has tried its hand atglass-making. It is curious, too, to notice how each differs from theothers. The Bohemians, for instance, were famous glass-makers, andtheir work, which primarily imitated that of the Venetians, is knownthe world over. "

"What sort of glass is it? Could I tell it if I should see it?"

"Well, for one thing they make beautiful wine glasses and goblets, having stems of enclosed white and colored enamel tubes twistedtogether with transparent glass, which look as if they had delicatethreads of color running through them. Then the Bohemians and theAustrians make many great beakers or drinking glasses, steins, andbowls with decorative coats of arms upon them in gold or in coloredenamel. "

"Oh, I have seen things like that, " Jean replied. 

"Yes, we have some of those ornamental goblets at home in thedining-room. They are very rich and handsome. Beside these varietiesthe Bohemians have of late revived the making of old white opaque glasswith colored enamel figures on it. But engraved glass is one of thekinds for which Bohemia is chiefly celebrated. Even very skilful glassengravers can be had there for little money. They cut fine, delicatedesigns upon the glass with a lathe. Some of this is white, but much ofit is of deep red or blue with the pattern engraved on it in white. Such glass is made in two layers, the outer one being cut away so toleave the design upon the surface underneath. "

"Wasn't it the Bohemians who invented cut glass?" Giusippe asked. 

"No. Sometimes people say so, but this is not true. The fact is thatthere chanced to be a glass cutter so skilful that he was appointedlapidary to Rudolph the Second; he had a workshop at Prague, but thoughhe did some very wonderful glass cutting, which gained him much fame, he did not invent the art. It was, by the way, one of his workmen wholater migrated to Nuremburg and carried the secret of glass-cutting toGermany. "

"Isn't it queer how one country learned of another?" reflected Jean. 

"Yes, and it is especially interesting when we see how hard each triednot to teach his neighbor anything. There always was somebody, just asthere always is now, who could not keep still and went and told, " Mr. Cabot said. "And while we are speaking of the different kinds of glasswe must not forget to mention the dark red ruby glass perfected in 1680by Kunckel, the director of the Potsdam glass works, for it is a veryingenious invention. The deep color is obtained by putting a thin layerof gold between the white glass and the coating of red. "

"What else did the Germans make?" queried Giusippe. 

"Well, the Germans, like the other nations, turned out glass which wassuggestive of their people. And that, by the by, is a fact you mustnotice when seeing the work of so many different countries. Observe howthe art of each reflects the characteristics of those who made it. Italy gave us fragile, dainty glass famous for its airy beauty anddelicacy; Germany, on the other hand, fashions a far more massive, rough, and heavier product--large flasks, steins and goblets, some ofwhich are even clumsy; all are substantial and useful, however, andhave the big cordial spirit of fellowship so characteristic of theGerman people. These glasses are decorated in large flat designs lesschoice, perhaps, than are the Bohemian. The shape of the German gobletsand drinking glasses differs, too, from those made in Italy. They areless graceful, less dainty. Instead you will find throughout Germanytall cylindrical shafts, tankards, and steins adorned with massiveeagles or colored coats of arms; often, moreover, both the Bohemiansand the Germans use pictorial designs showing processions of soldiers, battle scenes, or cavalry charges such as would appeal to nations whosemilitary life has long been one of the leading interests of theirpeople. "

"Tell me, Mr. Cabot, " inquired Giusippe eagerly, "did you ever see oneof the German puzzle cups?"

"Yes, several of them. In the British Museum there are several of thewindmill variety. "

"What is a puzzle cup, Uncle Bob?" demanded Jean. 

"Why, a puzzle or wager cup, as they are sometimes called, was aningenious invention of the Germans during their early days ofglass-making. The kind I speak of is a large inverted goblet which hason top a small silver windmill. The wager was to set the fansrevolving, turn the glass right side up, and then fill and drain itbefore the mill stopped turning. Such wagers were very popular in thoseolden days and are interesting as relics of a mediæval and far-awayperiod in history. "

So intently had Mr. Cabot and the others been talking that they hadstopped in the center of the room and it was while they were standingthere that a party of tourists entered from the hallway. Foremost amongthem was an American girl who carried in her hand a much worn Baedeker. As her eye swept over the tapestries covering the walls her glance fellupon Giusippe. 

Instantly she started and with parted lips stepped forward; then shepaused. 

"It cannot be!" Mr. Cabot heard her murmur. 

At the same moment, however, Giusippe had seen her. 

"The beautiful señorita!" he cried. "My lady of Venice!"

He was beside her in an instant. 

"Giusippe! Giusippe!" exclaimed the girl. "Can it really be you?"

"Yes, yes, señorita! It is I. Ah, that I should see you again! What ajoy it is. Surely four or five years must have passed since first youcame to paint in Venice. "

"Fully that, my little Giusippe. It is five years this June. You have agood memory. "

"How could I forget you, señorita; and the pictures, and your kindness!But I have left Venice, you see. Yes. Even now I am on my way toAmerica. "

"To America? Oh, Giusippe, Giusippe! And that is why you have discardedyour faded blouse, and the red tie which you wore knotted round yourthroat. Alas! I am almost sorry. And yet you look very nice, " she addedkindly. "But to leave Venice!"

"It is best, " Giusippe explained gently. "I have my way to make, and Ican do it better in your country, my señorita. "

"Perhaps. Still, I am sorry to have you leave your home. It is liketaking sea shells away from the sands of the shore. "

"And yet you would want me to be a man and succeed in life. Think howyou yourself worked for success. "

"I know. And it was you who brought it to me, Giusippe. The portrait Ipainted of you was exhibited in America and when I later sold it to anart dealer there it brought me a little fortune; but the fame itbrought was best of all. " The girl put her hand softly on the lad'sshoulder. 

"Oh, señorita, how glad I am!"

"I had a feeling that you would bring me luck the morning when I firstsaw you in the square near St. Mark's. Do you remember? And how youstood watching me paint? Do you recall how we got to talking and how Iasked if I might do the portrait of you? You laughed when I suggestedit! And then you came to the hotel evenings when you were free, and Isketched in the picture. It seems but yesterday. In the meantime youentertained me by telling me of Venice and its history. What a littlefellow you were to know so much!" The girl smiled down at him. "And nowlet me hear of yourself. What of your parents?"

"Alas, señorita, they have died. I am now quite alone in the world. Itis for that that I felt I must leave Venice. It is sad to be alone, señorita. "

"So it is, Giusippe. No one knows that better than I. " Impulsively sheslipped a hand into the small Venetian's. "But I must not take you fromyour friends. See, we have kept them waiting a long time. "

"I want you to meet them, señorita. They are from your country, andthey have been kind to me. "

"Then surely I must meet them. "

With a shy gesture the boy led her forward. 

"Miss Cartright is from New York, Mr. Cabot, " said Giusippe simply. "Long ago when I was a little lad I knew her in Venice, and she wasgood to me and to my parents. "

[Illustration: "I KNEW HER IN VENICE"]

"It was five years ago, " added Miss Cartright. "I went there to paint. "

"And little Giusippe, perhaps, made your stay as delightful as he hasmade ours, " Mr. Cabot said. 

"Yes. I was all by myself, and knew no one in Venice. Furthermore, Ispoke only a word or two of Italian. Giusippe was a great comfort. Hekept me from being lonesome. "

"And you are now staying in Paris?" questioned Mr. Cabot. 

"Yes, I have been here with friends studying for nearly a year; but Iam soon to return home. And now, before I leave you, I want to hear allabout Giusippe's plans. What is he to do?"

Little by little the story was told. Mr. Cabot began it and continuedit until Giusippe, who thought him too modest, finished the tale. 

"You see, señorita, Mr. Cabot, Miss Jean, and good Hannah will notthemselves tell you how kind they have been, so I myself must tell it, "said the boy. "And now I go with them to find a position in Americathat by hard work I may some time be able to repay them for theirgoodness to me. "

Miss Cartright nodded thoughtfully. 

At last she said:

"If you should come to New York I want to see you, Giusippe. Theremight be something I could do to help you. Anyway, I should want tohave a glimpse of you. And if you do not come and Mr. Cabot does, perhaps, since he knows how fond of you I am and how much I aminterested in your welfare, he will come and tell me how you aregetting on. "

She drew from her purse a card which she handed to the lad. 

"Perhaps I'd better take it, Giusippe, " Mr. Cabot said in a low tone. "It might get lost. "

Then there was a confusion of farewells, and the girl rejoined herfriends, who had gone through into the next room. 

It was not until she was well out of ear-shot that any one spoke. ThenJean, who had been silent throughout the entire interview, exclaimed:

"Oh, isn't she beautiful! Isn't she the very loveliest lady you eversaw, Giusippe?"

And Giusippe, answering in voluble English mixed with Italian, extollednot only the fairness but the goodness of his goddess. 

Even Hannah agreed that the American girl was charming, but regrettedthat she had not come from Boston instead of New York. 

Uncle Bob alone was silent. Turning the white card in his fingers hestood absently looking at the door through which Miss Ethel Cartrighthad passed. 

CHAPTER VI

UNCLE BOB AS STORY TELLER

Uncle Bob and his party remained in France several weeks, and duringthat time visited the old French cathedrals with their interestingwindows; and saw in the Louvre much glass of early French make as wellas many beautiful Venetian mirrors with all sorts of unique histories. One mirror was that famous seventeenth century possession of Marie deMedici, a looking-glass set in a frame which represented a fortune ofover thirty thousand dollars. This mirror was of rock crystal combinedwith cut and polished agates, and around it was a network of enameledgold. Outside this inner frame was a larger one formed entirely ofprecious stones. Three large emeralds as well as smaller diamonds andrubies adorned it. 

"Probably, " said Mr. Cabot, "this is but one of many such examples ofancient luxury. Unfortunately, however, most of these extravagantaffairs have been melted up by avaricious monarchs who coveted the gemsand gold. Such ornate mirrors are a relic of the Renaissance when eachobject made was considered an art work on which every means ofenrichment was lavished. I do not know that I think it any handsomerthan are the simpler mirrors with their Venetian frames of exquisitelycarved wood, of which there are many fine specimens in the Louvre. "

"Is the mirror that was given by the Republic of Venice to Henry theThird in the Louvre?" asked Giusippe. 

"No, that is in the Cluny Museum. You have heard of it, then?"

"Oh, yes; often in Venice. I have seen pictures of it, too, " Giusippereplied. 

"We must see it before we leave France, " declared Mr. Cabot. "It was, as you already know, presented to Henry the Third on his return fromPoland. It is set in a wonderfully designed frame of colored and whitebeveled glass, and the decoration is of alternating fleur-de-lis andpalm leaves, which are fastened to the frame by a series of screws. Itis quite a different sort of mirror from that of Marie de Medici. "

"I should like to see it, " Jean said. 

"You certainly shall. "

How rich France was in beautiful things! One never could see them all. 

One of the sights that especially interested Jean and Hannah was theimitation gems displayed in the Paris jewelry shops. These exquisitestones, Uncle Bob told them, were made in laboratories by workmen soskilful that only an expert could distinguish the manufactured gemsfrom the real, the stones conforming to almost every test applied togenuine jewels. They were not manufactured, however, for the purpose ofdeceiving people, but rather to be sold to those who either could notafford valuable stones or did not wish the care of them. The imitationpearls were especially fine, and by no means cheap either, as Hannahsoon found out when she attempted to purchase a small string. 

But many as were the wonderful sights in France, the continent had soonto be left behind, and almost before the travelers realized it theChannel had been crossed and they stood upon English soil. As UncleBob's time was limited they went direct to London, and when once thereone of the first things that Giusippe wished to see were the mosaics inSt. Paul's Cathedral of which he had heard so much. So they set out. Onreaching the church Giusippe regarded it with awe. How unlike it was tohis well loved St. Mark's. And yet how beautiful!

"These mosaics, like the ones we shall see at the Houses of Parliament, were not first made and then put up on the walls as were those such asSalviati and other Venetians shipped from Venice, " explained Mr. Cabot. "No, these were made directly upon the walls, the pieces of glass beingpressed into prepared areas of cement spread thickly upon the brickworkof the building. The designs are simple, large and effective figuresbeing preferred to smaller and more intricate patterns. Millions ofpieces have been used to make the pictures, and if you will noticecarefully you will see that they have the rough surface which catchesthe light as do all the early Venetian mosaics. "

Giusippe nodded. 

"There must also be some fine old glass windows in London, " hespeculated. "Aren't there, Mr. Cabot?"

"Yes, some varieties that you did not have in Venice, too, " declaredUncle Bob. "You see other people did invent something, Giusippe. Herein England in some of the older houses there are windows made of tinypieces of white glass leaded together; people were not able at thattime to get large sheets of glass such as we now use, and I am not surethat these windows made of small leaded panes were not prettier. Thenyou will find other windows made from what we call bull's eye glass. These bull's eyes were the centers or waste from large discs of crownglass after all the big pieces possible had been cut away. As mostglass comes now in sheets crown glass is little made, and therefore wefind bull's eyes rare unless manufactured expressly to imitate theantique roundels. "

"Of course there is lots of old stained glass in England, isn't there, Uncle Bob?" Jean ventured. 

"Yes, indeed. I am sorry to say, however, that much of it has beendestroyed before the public realized its value. At Salisbury Cathedral, for instance, some of the fine old glass was taken down and beaten topieces in order that the lead might be used. At Oxford rare Gothicwindows were removed and broken up to give room for the more modernwork of the Renaissance. But you will still find at Canterbury and inmany other of the English churches stained glass which has escapeddestruction and come down to us through hundreds of years. And speakingof how such things have been preserved I must tell you the wonderfulstory of the east window in St. Margaret's Chapel at Westminster. "

"Oh, do tell us!" begged Jean. "I love stories. "

"This story is almost like a fairy tale, when one considers that it isthe history of such a fragile thing as a glass window, " Mr. Cabotbegan. "This window of which I am telling you was Flemish in design, and is said to have been ordered by Ferdinand and Isabella when theirdaughter Catherine was engaged to Arthur, the Prince of Wales. But forsome reason it was not delivered, and a Dutch magistrate later decidedto present it to King Henry the Seventh. Unfortunately the king diedbefore the gift arrived and it came into the hands of the Abbot ofWaltham. Now these were very troublous times for a stained glass windowto be traveling about the land; Cromwell was in power and his followersbelieved it right to destroy everything which existed merely because ofits beauty. So the old abbot was afraid his treasure would be wrecked, and to insure its safety he buried it. "

"How funny!"

"Yes, wasn't it?"

"What happened then?"

"After the Restoration one of the loyal generals of the Crown had thewindow dug up and placed in a chapel on his estate. But the housechanged hands and as its new owner did not like the window he offeredit to Wadham College. The college authorities, alas, did not care forit, so it remained cased up for many years. Then by and by along camean Englishman who had the courage to buy it and have it set up in hishouse. "

"Was that the end of it?" queried Giusippe. 

"No, indeed. This person died, and his son took down the stained glassheirloom and in 1758 sold it to a committee which was at that time busydecorating St. Margaret's Chapel. Here at last it was set up and hereone cannot but hope it will remain. Certainly it has earned a longrest. "

"Shouldn't you think it would have been broken in all that time?"ejaculated Jean. 

"One would certainly have thought so, " Uncle Bob agreed. "It seemed topossess a charmed life. Most of that early glass was made by Flemishrefugees who had fled to England to escape religious persecution. Somewas designed for English monasteries. Houses, you know, did not haveglass windows at that time but depended for protection upon oiled paperand skins. Glass was considered a luxury, and it was many, many yearsbefore window glass or table glass was in use. Rich English familiesbought glass dishes from galleys which, as Giusippe has told us, cameladen from Venice. Sometimes this Venetian glass was mounted in gold orsilver. There was, it is true, a little glass of English make, but noone thought it worth using; in fact when the stained glass windows wereput into Beauchamp Chapel at Warwick it was expressly stated that noEnglish glass was to be used. "

"How did glass ever come to be made here, then?" inquired Jean. 

"Well, in time more Flemish Protestants fled to England and beganmaking stained glass at London, Stourbridge, and Newcastle-on-Tyne. In1589 there were fifteen glass-houses in England. Then, because so muchwood had been used in the iron foundries, the supply became exhaustedand sea or pit coal had to be used instead. People were forced to try, in consequence, a different kind of melting pot for their glass and anew mixture of material; in this way they stumbled upon a heavy, brilliant, white crystal metal which the French called 'the mostbeautiful glassy substance known. ' It was the pure white flint, orcrystal glass, for which England has since become famous. Immediatelyit began to be used for all sorts of things. In 1637 the Duke ofBuckingham had flint glass windows for his coach, and he had someVenetian workmen make mirrors out of it. So it went. A great many moremirrors were made, great pier glasses with beveled edges. It is saidthat some of those very mirrors are even now at Hampton Court. In thecourse of time the English became more and more skilful atglass-making, and when Queen Victoria came to the throne they weremanufacturing enormous cut glass ornaments and bowls, and decoratingtheir palaces and theaters with glass chandeliers which had myriads ofheavy, sparkling prisms dangling from them. You will remember that inVenice you saw some glass chandeliers; and you may recall howdelicately fashioned they were and how their twisted branches werecovered with glass flowers in the center of which candles could be set. But the English chandeliers were far more massive affairs than those. And no sooner did English workmen find what they could do with this newmaterial than they went mad over glass-making. Why, in 1851 theyactually built for the first International Exhibit a Crystal Palacewith a big glass fountain in it. Its builder was James Paxton, and hewas knighted for doing it. "

"I should think he deserved to be!" Jean said. "Who ever would havethought of making a palace of glass!"

"This one attracted much attention, I assure you, " said Uncle Bob. "Later it was reconstructed at Sydenham and to this day there itstands. England now makes the finest crystal glass of any country inthe world; but to-morrow I intend to take you to the British Museum andshow you that in spite of all that European nations have done therewere other very skilful glass-makers in the world before any of themmade glass at all. "

"Before the time of the Greeks and Romans--before the people who madethe Naples Vase?" Jean asked. 

"Yes, centuries before. "

"Who were they?" demanded both Jean and Giusippe in the same breath. 

"The Egyptians first; and after them the Phoenicians and Syrians. Allthese peoples lived where they could easily get plenty of the finewhite sand necessary for glass-making. In some of the old tombs glassbeads, cups, drinking-vessels, and curiously shaped vials have beenfound, many of them very beautiful in color. Some of this color is dueto the action of the soil and the atmosphere, for science tells us thatafter glass has been buried in the earth many centuries and is thenexposed to the air it begins to decay and its color often changes. Wehave in our museums many pieces of ancient glass which have changedcolor in this way and have become far more beautiful than theyoriginally were. How these races that lived in the remote ages foundout how to make glass no one knows; but certain it is that theEgyptians could fashion imitation gems, crude mosaics and various glassvessels. Later the Phoenicians improved the art and afterward, as youhave seen, the Greeks and Romans took it up. There is a strange tale ofhow, during the reign of Tiberius, a glass-maker discovered how to makea kind of glass which would not break. It was a sort of malleableglass. "

"Oh, tell us about it, please, Uncle Bob. "

"Certainly, if you would like to hear. This glass-maker made a cup forthe Emperor and tried a long time to get an audience at which topresent his new invention. Then at last the chance came, and thinkingto make himself famous the artisan contrived, as he passed the flagonto his sovereign, to drop it on the marble floor. Of course every onethought the glass was broken, and that is precisely what theglass-maker wanted them to think. He picked it up, smoothed out withhis hammer the dent made in its side, and passed it once more expectingto receive praise for his wonderful deed. Tiberius eyed him silently. Then he asked; 'Does any one else know how to make glass like this?'

"'No one, ' answered the glass-maker. 

"'Off with his head at once!' cried the enraged monarch. 'If glassdishes and flasks do not break they will soon become as valuable as mygold and silver ones!'

"Despite his protests the poor glass-maker was dragged off andbeheaded. The rulers of those days were not very fair-minded, you see. "

With so many interesting stories, and so many things to see, you may besure that neither Jean nor Giusippe found sightseeing dull. And thenext day Uncle Bob was as good as his word, and took the young peopleto the British Museum, where he showed them some of the old Egyptianand Græco-Syrian glass. There were little vases, cups, and flasks ofwonderful iridescent color, as well as many glass beads that had beenfound upon Egyptian mummies. 

"Now, Uncle Bob, " Jean said, after they had looked at these strange oldbits of glass for some time, "you must take us to see the PortlandVase. You promised you would, you know. "

"Sure enough; so I did. I should have forgotten it, too, had you notmentioned it. "

Accordingly they hunted up the Gold Room where the vase stood. 

Jean was very proud that she was able to point it out before she hadbeen told which one it was. 

"You see, " explained she shyly, "it is so much like the Naples Vasethat I recognized it right off. "

It was indeed of the same dark blue transparent glass, and had on itthe same sort of delicate white cameo figures. 

"This vase, " Mr. Cabot said, "was found about the middle of thesixteenth century enclosed in a marble sarcophagus in an undergroundchamber which was located two and a half miles out of Rome. It wastaken to the Barbarini Palace, but later the princess of that noblefamily, wishing to raise money, sold it to Sir William Hamilton, whochanced to be at that time the English ambassador to Naples. From himit passed to the Duchess of Portland, and at her death was sold atauction to the new Duke of Portland. That is the way it got its name. Now the Duke, desirous of putting his precious purchase in a safeplace, and also wishing to allow others to enjoy it, lent it to theBritish Museum. Imagine his horror and that of the Museum authoritieswhen in 1845 a lunatic named Lloyd, who saw it, viciously smashed it topieces. "

His hearers gasped. 

"To see it you would not dream that it had ever been broken, would you?Yes, it has been so carefully mended that no one could tell thedifference. It was this vase which the English potter, Wedgwood, coveted so intensely that he bid a thousand pounds for it; the Duke ofPortland outbid him by just twenty-nine pounds. He was, however, agenerous man, and when at last the vase was his he allowed Wedgwood tocopy it. This took a year's time, and even then the copy was far lessbeautiful than was the original. Many copies of it have been madesince, but never has any one succeeded in making anything to equal thevase itself. You will see copies of it in almost all our Americanmuseums. "

"I mean to see when I get home if there is a copy of it in Boston, "Jean remarked. 

"You will find one at the Art Museum. And now while we are here thereis still that other famous vase which I mentioned once before and whichI should like to have you see. It is not, perhaps, as fine as theNaples or the Portland, but it is nevertheless one celebrated the worldover. Like the Naples Vase it came from Pompeii, and like the PortlandVase it has been skilfully mended. It is called the Auldjo Vase. "

Uncle Bob was not long in finding where this treasure stood. It wassmall--not more than nine inches in height, and like the other two wasof the familiar blue transparent glass with a white cameo design cutupon it. Instead of having a Grecian decoration, however, the patternwas of vines, leaves, and clusters of grapes. 

"The Portland Vase, as I have already told you, was perfect when it wasunearthed, " Mr. Cabot said. "And the Naples Vase you will remember wasalso whole except that its base, or foot, which was probably of gold, was missing. But the Auldjo Vase was in pieces, and it was only asingle one of these fragments that was bequeathed to the British Museumby Miss Auldjo. Now when the Museum committee saw this single piecenothing would do but they must have the others. They therefore boughtthe rest, had the vase mended, and set it up here where people can seeit. It cost a great deal of money to purchase it. "

"I think it is splendid of museums and of rich people to buy suchthings and put them where every one can look at them!" exclaimed Jean. "None of us could afford to and if those who owned them just kept themin their own houses we should never see them at all. "

"Yes. Remember that, too, in this day when there are so many personswho begrudge the rich their fortunes. Remember if there were notindividuals in the world who possessed fortunes the poor would have farless opportunity to see art treasures of every sort. And that is oneway in which those who are rich and generous can serve their country. There are many different methods of being a good citizen, you see. "

Mr. Cabot took out his watch and glanced at it thoughtfully. 

"I think we shall have time to see just one thing more, and then wemust go back to the hotel. We have examined all kinds of glassobjects--so many, in fact, that it would seem as if there was no otherpurpose for which glass could be used. And yet I can show you somethingof which, I will wager, you have not thought. "

"What is it?" questioned the two young people breathlessly. 

Full of curiosity, Uncle Bob led them through several corridors untilhe came to a large room that they had not visited. He conducted them toits farther end and paused before a large sand glass. 

"Before the days of clocks and watches, " he began, "such glasses asthese were much in use for telling the time. Throughout the sixteenthand seventeenth centuries they had them in almost all the churches, that the officiating clergyman might be able to measure the length ofhis sermon. "

Jean laughed. 

"I wish they had them now, " she declared mischievously. 

"Sometimes I do, " smiled Uncle Bob. "It is said the glasses wereoriginally invented in Egypt. Wherever they came from, they certainlywere a great convenience to those who had no other means of telling thetime. Charlemagne, I have read, had a sand glass so large that itneeded to be turned only once in twelve hours. Fancy how large it musthave been. At the South Kensington Museum is a set of four large sandglasses evidently made to go together. Of course you have seen, even inour day, hour, quarter-hour, and minute glasses. "

"I used to practice by an hour glass, " Jean replied quickly. "At leastit was a quarter-of-an-hour glass, and I had to turn it four times. "

"It would be strange not to have clocks and watches, wouldn't it?"reflected Giusippe as they walked back to the hotel. 

"I guess it would!" Hannah returned emphatically. "The meals wouldnever be on time. "

"One advantage in that, my good Hannah, would be that nobody would everbe scolded because he was late, " retorted Mr. Cabot humorously. 

The three weeks allotted for the London visit passed only too quickly, and surprisingly soon came the day when the travelers found themselvesaboard ship and homeward bound. 

Perhaps after all they were not altogether sorry, for despite themarvels of the old world there is no place like home. Hannah was eagerto open the Boston house and air it; Jean rejoiced that each throb ofthe engine brought her nearer to her beloved doggie; Uncle Bob'sfingers itched to be setting in place the Italian marbles he hadordered for the new house; and Giusippe waited almost with bated breathfor his first sight of America, the country of his dreams. 

But a great surprise was in store for every one of these persons as themighty steamer left her moorings and put out of Liverpool harbor. 

Across the deck came a vision, an apparition so unexpected that Jeanand Giusippe cried out, and even Uncle Bob muttered to himselfsomething which nobody could hear. The figure was that of a girl--agirl with wind-tossed hair who, with head thrown back, stopped a momentand looked full into the sunset. 

It was Miss Ethel Cartright of New York, Giusippe's beautiful lady ofVenice!

CHAPTER VII

AMERICA ONCE MORE

The voyage from Liverpool to Boston was thoroughly interesting toGiusippe. In the first place there was the wonder of the great bluesea--a sea so vast that the Italian boy, who had never before venturedbeyond the canals of the Adriatic, was bewildered when day after daythe giant ship plowed onward and still, despite her speed, failed toreach the land. Sunlight flooded the water, twilight settled intodarkness, and yet on every hand tossed that mighty expanse of waves. Would a haven ever be reached, the lad asked himself; and how, amidthat pathless ocean, could the captain be so sure that eventually hewould make the port for which he was aiming? It was all wonderful. 

Fortunately the crossing was a smooth one, and accordingly every momentof the voyage was a delight. What happy days our travelers passedtogether! Miss Cartright was the jolliest of companions. She dresseddolls for Jean--dressed them in such gowns as never were seen, daintyFrench little frocks which converted the plainest china creature into awee Parisian; she read aloud; she told stories; she played games. Hannah surrendered unconditionally when, one morning after they hadbeen comparing notes on housekeeping, the fact leaked out that MissCartright's mother had been a New Englander. That was enough!

"She has had the proper sort of bringing up, " remarked Hannah, with asigh of satisfaction. "She knows exactly how to pack away blankets andhow to clean house as it should be done. She is a very unusual youngwoman!"

Coming from Hannah such praise was phenomenal. 

Mr. Cabot seemed to think, too, that Miss Cartright possessed manyvirtues. 

At any rate he enjoyed talking with her, and every evening when thefull moon touched with iridescent beauty the wide, pulsing sea he wouldtuck the girl into her steamer chair and the two would stay up on deckuntil the clear golden ball of light had climbed high into the heaven. 

So passed the voyage. 

Then as America came nearer Giusippe witnessed all the strange sightsthat heralded the approach to the new continent; he saw the lightsdotting the coast; he watched steamers which were outward bound for theold world he had left behind; he strained his eyes to catch, through atelescope, the murky outlines of the land. 

"Here is still another use to which glass is put, Giusippe, " said Mr. Cabot indicating with a gesture the red flash-light of a beacon faragainst the horizon. "Without the powerful reflectors, lenses, andprisms which are in use in our lighthouses many a vessel would bewrecked. For not only must a lighthouse have a strong light; it mustalso have a means of throwing that light out, and thereby increasingits effectiveness. Scientists have discovered just how to arrangeprisms, lenses, and reflectors so the light will travel to the farthestpossible distance. At Navasink, on the highlands south of New Yorkharbor, stands the most powerful coast light in the United States. Itequals about sixty million candle-power, and its beam can be seenseventy nautical miles away. The carrying of the light to such atremendous distance is due to the strong reflectors employed inconjunction with the light itself. The largest lens, however, undercontrol of the United States is on the headlands of the HawaiianIslands. This is eight and three-quarters feet in diameter and is madefrom the most carefully polished glass. And by the way, among otheruses that science makes of glass are telescopes, microscopes, andfield-glasses, which are all constructed from flawlessly ground lenses. Often it takes a whole year, and sometimes even longer, to polish alarge telescope lens. Without this magnifying agency we should have noastronomy, and fewer scientific discoveries than we now have. Theglasses people wear all have to be ground and polished in much the samefashion; opera glasses, magic lanterns, and every contrivance forbringing distant objects nearer or making them larger are dependent fortheir power upon glass lenses. "

"Even when making glass I never dreamed it could be used for so manydifferent purposes, " answered Giusippe. 

"I wish we had counted up, as we went along, how many things it is usedfor, " Jean put in. 

"We might have done so, only I am afraid you would have become verytired had we attempted it, " laughed Uncle Bob. "In addition to opticalglass there are still other branches of science that could not go onwithout glass in its various forms. Take, for instance, electricity. Itwould not be safe to employ this strange force without the protectionof glass barriers to hedge in its dangerous current. Glass, as youprobably know, is a non-conductor of electricity, and whenever we wishto confine its power and prevent it from doing harm we place a layer ofglass between it and the thing to be protected. The glass checks theprogress of the current. In all chemical laboratories, too, no end ofglass test-tubes, thermometers, and crucibles are in demand forfurthering research work. Science would be greatly hampered in itsusefulness had it not recourse to glass in its manifold forms. "

"What a wonderful material it is!" ejaculated Jean. "I never shall seeanything made of glass again without thinking of all it does for us. "

"Be grateful, too, Jean, to the men who have discovered how to use it, "replied Mr. Cabot gravely. "Certainly our mariners many a time owetheir safety to just such warning beacons as the one ahead. We must askthe captain what light that is. Just think--to-morrow morning we shallwake up in Boston harbor and be at home again. "

A hush fell on the party. 

"I shall be dreadfully sorry to have Miss Cartright leave us and go toNew York; sha'n't you, Uncle Bob?" said Jean at last, slipping her handinto that of the older woman who stood beside her. "Wouldn't it benice, Miss Cartright, if you lived in Boston? Then I'd see you all thetime--at least I would when I wasn't in Pittsburgh, and then Uncle Bobcould see you, and that would be almost as good. "

"Almost, " echoed Uncle Bob. 

"But you are coming to New York to see me some time, Jean dear, " thegirl said with her eyes far on the horizon. "You know your uncle haspromised that when you go to Pittsburgh both you and Giusippe are tostop and visit me for a few days. "

"Yes, I have not forgotten; it will be lovely, too, " replied Jean. "Still that is not like having you live where you can dress dolls allthe time. Why don't you move to Boston? I am sure you would like it. Wehave the loveliest squirrels on the Common!"

Everybody laughed. 

"I have been trying to tell Miss Cartright what a very nice placeBoston is to live in, " added Mr. Cabot softly. 

"Well, we all will keep on telling her, and then maybe she'll beconvinced, " Jean declared. 

So they parted for the night. 

With the morning came the bustle and confusion of landing. Much ofUncle Bob's time was taken up with the inspection of trunks, and withhelping Giusippe sign papers and answer the questions necessary for hisadmission to the United States. Then came the parting. They bade ahurried good-bye to Miss Cartright, whom Uncle Bob was to put aboardthe New York train, and into a cab bundled Hannah, Giusippe, and Jean, in which equipage, almost smothered in luggage, they were rolled off toBeacon Hill. 

Nothing could exceed Giusippe's interest in these first glimpses of thenew country to which he had come. For the next few weeks he went aboutas if in a trance, struggling to adjust himself to life in an Americancity. How different it was from his beloved Venice! How sharp theSeptember days with their early frost! How he missed the golden warmthof the sunny Adriatic and the familiar sights of home! During hisjourney through France and England the constant change of travel hadcarried with it sufficient excitement to keep him from being homesick;but now that he was settled for a time in Boston he got his first tasteof what life in the United States was to be like. Not that he wasdisappointed; it was only that he felt such a stranger to all abouthim. The automobiles, subways, elevated roads, all confused his brain, and the dusty streets made his throat smart with dryness. 

Daily, however, he became more and more accustomed to his surroundings, and when at last he ventured out alone and discovered that he couldfind his way back again his courage rose. Then he began going onerrands for Hannah, and was proud and glad to be of use. He accompaniedUncle Bob to his office and arrived home alone in safety. Gradually thestrangeness of his new home wore away. Every novel sight he beheld, every custom which was surprising to him, everything that he did notunderstand he asked a score of questions about. It was _why_, _why_, _why_, from morning until night. His questions, fortunately, wereintelligent ones, and as he remembered with accuracy the answers givenhim and applied the knowledge thus gained to future conditions he madeamazing headway in becoming Americanized. He got books and read them;he visited the churches, Library, and Art Museum. And when he saw howmuch of its beauty the New World had borrowed from the Old he no longerfelt cut off from his Italian home. 

Uncle Bob, in the meantime, had been forced to plunge so deeply intobusiness that he had had little opportunity to aid his protégé in theseexplorations. But one Saturday noon he came home and announced that hewas to treat himself to a half holiday. 

"I am not going back to the office to-day, " he declared. "Instead Iintend to carry off you two young persons and show you something verybeautiful, the like of which you will see nowhere else in all theworld. "

"What is it?" cried Jean and Giusippe. 

"Oh, I'm not telling. Just you be ready directly after luncheon to gowith me to Cambridge. "

"Cambridge! Oh, I know. It is the University, Mr. Cabot. It isHarvard!" exclaimed Giusippe, very proud of his knowledge. 

"Not quite, " Mr. Cabot said, shaking his head, "although, being aHarvard man, I naturally feel that the equal of my Alma Mater cannot befound elsewhere. But you are on the right track. It is something whichis out at Harvard. Guess again. "

"I don't know, " confessed Giusippe. 

"Well, you may be excused because you have not been in this countrylong enough to be acquainted with all its marvels. But Jean shouldknow. Where are you, young lady? You at least should be able to tellwhat treasures America possesses. "

"I am afraid I can't. "

"Then we must excuse you also; you are so young. I see plainly that wemust appeal to Hannah. She who is ever extolling Boston can of coursetell us what it is that Harvard University possesses which isunsurpassed in any other part of the world. "

Hannah looked chagrined. 

"You do not know?" went on Uncle Bob teasingly. "Oh, for shame! And yousuch an ardent Bostonian! Well, so far as I can see there is nothingfor it but for me to take you all three to Cambridge as fast as ever wecan get there. Such ignorance is deplorable. "

You may be very sure that during the ride out from the city every meanswas employed to get Uncle Bob to tell what particular wonder he was todisplay. At last, driven to desperation by Jean's persistent questions, he answered:

"I will tell you just one fact. The things we are going to see are madeof glass. "

"Glass! But we have already seen everything that ever could be madefrom glass, Uncle Bob, " cried Jean in dismay. 

"No, we haven't. "

"Is it stained glass windows?"

"No. "

"Mosaics?"

"No. "

"A telescope?"

"No. "

"What is it, Uncle Bob?"

"Never you mind. You would never guess if you guessed a lifetime. Youbetter give it up, " was Mr. Cabot's smiling answer. 

Cambridge was soon reached, and after a walk through the College Yardthat Giusippe might have a peep at Holworthy, where Uncle Bob had spenthis student days, the sightseers entered a quiet old brick building andwere led by Mr. Cabot into a room where stood case after case ofblooming flowers. There were garden blossoms of every variety, wildflowers, tropical plants, all fresh and green as if growing. And yetthey were not growing; instead they lay singly or in clusters, eachbloom as perfect as if just cut from the stalk. 

"How beautiful! Oh, Uncle Bob, it is like a big greenhouse!" exclaimedJean. 

"This is what I brought you to see. "

"But you said we were coming to see something made of glass, " objectedGiusippe. 

"You did say so, Uncle Bob. "

"Behold, even as I said!"

"Bu-u-t, these flowers are not glass. What do you mean?"

"On the contrary, my unbelieving friends, glass is precisely what theyare made of. Every blossom, every leaf, every bud, every seed here isthe work of an expert glass-maker. "

Mr. Cabot watched their faces, enjoying their incredulity. 

"_Glass_!"

"Even so. Shall I tell you about it?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"This collection of flowers is called the Ware Collection, the namebeing bestowed out of compliment to Mrs. And Miss Ware, who generouslydonated much of the money for which to pay for it. Sometimes, too, itis known as the Blaschka Collection of Glass Flower Models, for themaking was done by Leopold Blaschka and his son Rudolph, both of whomwere Bohemians. It happened that several years ago Harvard Universitywished to equip its Botanical Department with flower specimens whichmight be used for study by the students. The question at once arose howthis was to be done. Real flowers would of course fade, and wax flowerswould melt or break. What could be used? There seemed to be no suchthing as imperishable flowers. "

Mr. Cabot paused a moment while the others waited expectantly. 

"There were, however, in the Zoölogical Department some wonderfullyaccurate glass models of animals made by a Bohemian scientist namedBlaschka, who was a rather remarkable combination of scholar andglass-maker. Accordingly when it became necessary to have fadelessflowers one of the professors wondered if this same Bohemian could notreproduce them. So he set out for Blaschka's home at Hosterwirtz, nearDresden, to see. "

"Did he have to go way to Germany to find out?"

"Yes, because in the first place he did not know that Blaschka couldmake flowers at all; and if he could he was not certain that he couldmake them perfectly enough to render them satisfactory for such apurpose. So he traveled to Germany and found the house where lived thefamous glass-maker; and it was while waiting alone in the parlor thathe saw on a shelf a vase containing what seemed to be a very beautifulfresh orchid. "

"It was made of glass!" Jean declared, leaping at the truth. 

"Yes; and it was so perfect that the Harvard professor could hardlybelieve his eyes. At that moment the scientist entered. He confessedthat he had made the flower for his wife; indeed, he had made manyglass orchids--one collection of some sixty varieties which had beenordered by Prince Camille de Rohan, but which had later been destroyedwhen the Natural History Museum at Liège had been burned. Since then, Blaschka explained, he had given all his attention to making models ofanimals. He said that his son Rudolph helped him, and that they twoalone knew how the work was done. It was their knowledge of zoölogy andof botany added to their skill at glass-making which enabled them toturn out such correct copies of real objects. "

"Of course the Harvard professor was delighted, " Jean ventured. 

"Indeed he was! Before he left he won a promise from Blaschka and hisson to send to Cambridge a few flowers to serve as specimens of whatthey could do. Now you may fancy the rage of the Harvard authoritieswhen on the arrival of the cases of flowers they found that almost allof them had been broken to bits in the New York Custom House. Therewas, however, enough left of the consignment to give to the Cambridgeprofessors the assurance that the two Bohemians were well equal to thetask demanded of them. Those who saw the shattered blossoms were mostenthusiastic, and Mrs. Ware and her daughter told the authorities toorder a limited number as a gift to the University. This second lotcame safely and were so beautiful that Harvard at once arranged thatthe two Blaschkas send over to America all the flowers they could makefor the next ten years. "

"My!"

"Yes, that seems a great many, doesn't it?" Mr. Cabot assented, noddingto Jean. "But after all, it was not so tremendous as it sounds. You seeHarvard needed a copy of every American flower, plant, and fruit. Themaking of them would take a great deal of time. Of course unless thecollection was complete it would be of little use to students. So theBlaschkas began their work, and for a few years averaged a hundred setsof flowers a year. Then the father died and Rudolph was left to finishthe work alone. You remember I told you that in true mediæval fashionthey had kept the secret of their art to themselves; as a consequencethere now was no one to aid the son in his undertaking. Twice he cameto our country to get copies of flowers from which to work, toilingbravely on in order to finish the task his father had begun. He said heconsidered it a sort of monument or memorial to the elder man's genius. There you have the story, " concluded Mr. Cabot. "No other suchcollection exists anywhere else in the world. Even with a microscope itis impossible to distinguish between the real flower and the glasscopy. "

"How were they made?" Giusippe demanded. "Was the glass blown?"

"No; the flowers were modeled. That is all I can tell you. The brittleglass was in some way made plastic so it could be shaped by hand or byinstruments. Some of the coloring was put on while the material washot; some while it was cooling; and some after it was cold. It alldepended upon the result desired. But one thing is evident--theBlaschkas worked very quickly and with marvelous scientific accuracy. "

"It is simply wonderful, " said Giusippe. "Even at Murano there isnothing to equal this. "

"I thought you, who knew so much of glass-making, would appreciate whatsuch a collection represents in knowledge, toil, and skill. Furthermoreit is beautiful, and for that reason alone is well worth seeing, "answered Mr. Cabot. 

"It is wonderful!" repeated the Italian lad. 

All the way home the young Venetian was peculiarly silent. His nationalpride had received a blow. Bohemia had surpassed Venice at its owntrade, the art of glass-making!

CHAPTER VIII

JEAN THREATENS TO STEAL GIUSIPPE'S TRADE

It was the next morning while Mr. Cabot and Giusippe were stilldiscussing the Blaschka glass flowers that the Italian lad remarked:

"I have wondered and wondered ever since we went out to Harvard howthose fragile flower models were annealed without breaking. It musthave been very difficult. "

"What is annealing?" inquired Jean, holding at arm's length a doll'shat and straightening a feather at one side of it. 

"Annealing? Why, the gradual cooling of the glass after it has beenheated. "

"What do they heat it for?"

"Don't you know how glass is made?" Giusippe asked in surprise. 

Jean shook her head. 

"No. How should I?"

"Why--but I thought every one knew that!"

"I don't see why. How could a girl know about the work you men dounless you take the trouble to tell her?" Jean dimpled. "All throughEurope you and Uncle Bob have talked glass, glass, glass--nothing butglass, and as you both seemed to understand what you were talking aboutI did not like to interrupt and ask questions; but I had no more ideathan the man in the moon what you meant sometimes. "

"Do you mean to say you know nothing at all about the process ofglass-making, Jean?" asked Mr. Cabot. 

"Not a thing. "

"Well, well, well! You have been a very patient little lady, that isall I can say. Giusippe and I have been both rude and remiss, haven'twe, Giusippe? I thought of course you understood; and yet it is not atall strange that you did not. As you say, how could you? Why didn't youask us, dear?"

"Oh, I didn't like to. I hate to seem stupid and be a bother. "

"You are neither of those things, dear child. Is she, Giusippe?"

"I should say not. "

"Well then, if it is all the same to you, I do wish somebody would tellme whether glass is dug up out of the earth or is made of things mixedtogether like a pudding, " said Jean. 

Both Giusippe and Uncle Bob laughed. 

"The pudding idea is the nearer correct. Glass is made from ingredientswhich are mixed together, boiled, baked, and set away to cool. Isn'tthat about it, Giusippe?"

Giusippe nodded. 

"I think the best remedy we can administer to this young lady, as wellas the most fitting penance for our own discourtesy to her, is toescort her through a glass factory and let her, with her own eyes, behold the process. What do you say, Giusippe?"

"A capital idea, señor. Then I, too, should have the chance to visit anAmerican factory and compare the process you use here with our Italianmethod. I should like it above everything else. "

"That is precisely what we will do then, " declared Mr. Cabot. "On myfirst leisure day we will go, and in the meantime I will hunt up thelocation of the most satisfactory and nearest glass works. "

Not more than a week passed before Uncle Bob fulfilled his promise. 

"Make yourselves ready, oh ye glass-makers, " said he one morning atbreakfast. "I find after telephoning to the office that I am not neededto-day; therefore, the moment we have swallowed these estimable griddlecakes of Hannah's we will hie us forth to instruct Jean in the art ofmanufacturing vases, bottles, tumblers and the various sorts ofglassware. "

The two young people greeted the suggestion with pleasure. 

"Can you really get away to-day, Uncle Bob?" cried Jean. "What funwe'll have!"

"I think it will be fun. We must, however, make Giusippe captain of theexpedition for he is the one who really knows glass-making frombeginning to end, and can answer all our questions. "

"I think I might in Murano, " returned the Venetian modestly, "but thatis no sign that I can do it here; your process may differ from the onewe use at home. "

"Oh, I do not believe so--at least, not in essentials, " Mr. Cabotanswered. 

So they started out, and before they had proceeded any distance at allthey got into a spirited debate over the tiny lights of glass set inthe top of the electric car. The panes were of ground glass dotted withan all-over pattern of small stars which had been left transparent. 

"How did they make the stars on that glass?" was Jean's innocentquestion. "Did they scratch off the thick surface and leave the designof clear glass?"

"No indeed, " Mr. Cabot replied. "On the contrary they started with thestars and then made the background cloudy. "

"But I don't see how they could. "

"Do you, Giusippe?"

"I am afraid not, señor. "

"Good! At last there is one fact about glass-making that I can impartto you. This sort of glass is known as sand-blast glass, and the art ofmaking it, they say, chanced to be discovered near the seashore. It wasfound that when the strong winds rose and blew the sand against glasswindow-panes of the houses the small particles, being sharp, cut intothe glass surface, and before long wore it to a cloudy white throughwhich it was impossible to see out. Often the glass fronts oflighthouses were injured in this way and the lights dimmed. Finallysome man came along who said: 'See here! Why not turn this grindingeffect of the sand to some purpose? Why not apply it to transparentglass and make it frosted so one can get light but not see through it?Often such glass would be a convenience. ' Therefore this inventor sethis brain to the task. Strong currents or streams of sand were directedagainst a clear glass surface with such force that they cut and groundit until it was no longer transparent. They called the product thusmade sand-blast glass. Later they improved upon it by laying a stencilover it so that a desired design was covered and remained protectedfrom the sand blast. The result was a pattern such as you see--clearfigures set in a background of clouded glass. "

"How interesting!"

"Yes, isn't it? As is true of so many other of our most cleverinventions nature first showed man the path. Ground glass in itsmodified forms is used for many purposes now; and yet I venture to sayfew persons know how it came to be discovered. "

Just at this point the car stopped with a sudden jerk, and beckoningJean and Giusippe to follow, Mr. Cabot got out and entered a largebrick building that stood close at hand. Evidently he was expected, fora man came forward to greet him. 

"Mr. Cabot?" he asked. 

"Yes. I received your note this morning, so I brought my young chargesout at once. It is very good of you to allow us to go through thefactory. "

"We are always glad to see visitors. I will put you in the hands of oneof our foremen who will take you about and tell you everything you maywant to know. "

He touched a bell. 

"Show Mr. Cabot and his friends down-stairs, " said he to the boy whoanswered his call, "and introduce them to Mr. Wyman. Tell him he is toconduct them over the works. "

Mr. Wyman welcomed them cordially. 

"We see many visitors here, sir, " said he, "and are always glad to havethem come. Although glass-making is an old story to us scarce a daypasses that some one does not visit us to whom the process is entirelynew; and it certainly is interesting if a person has never seen it. Suppose we begin at the very beginning. In this bin, or trough, youwill see the mixture or batch of which the glass is made. It iscomposed of red lead and the finest of white beach sand. The lead iswhat gives the inside of the trough its vermilion color. The sand comesfrom abroad, and before it can be used it must be sifted and siftedthrough a series of closely woven cloths until it is smooth and fine aspowder. Before we put the mixture into the melting pots we heat it to agiven temperature so that it will be less likely to chill the clay potsand break them. "

"Do you really make glass by melting up that stuff?" asked Jeanincredulously. 

The man smiled. 

"But isn't it all red?"

"The red comes out in the melting. We have to be very careful, however, in weighing out the ingredients, for much of our success depends on theaccurate proportions of the materials combined in the batch. Of coursethe chemical composition differs some for different sorts of glass. Itall depends on what kind of glass is to be made. Then too theconditions of the furnaces vary at times, the draughts being better atsome seasons than at others. We take a test or proof of every freshmelt, and you would be surprised to see how little these differ. Careful mixing of the raw materials is the first important item ofsuccessful glass-making; the second is the fusion by heat of thematerials. "

"The batch is next melted, Jean, " explained Giusippe, as they followedMr. Wyman into the great brick-paved room where the furnaces were. 

Here indeed was a picturesque scene. Numberless men were hurryinghither and thither, some whirling in the air glowing masses of moltenglass; others standing before the furnace doors gathering balls of iton the end of long iron blow-pipes which were from six to nine feet inlength. Everybody was scurrying. As soon as a ball of red-hot glass hadbeen collected on the end of a blow-pipe it was rushed off to theblower before it cooled. In and out of the throng of moving workmenyoung boys, or carriers, swung along bearing to the annealing ovens oncharred wooden trays or forks newly completed vases or pitchers. 

Jean glanced about, fascinated by the bustling crowd. 

"Here are the furnaces, " the foreman said. "Each one has twelveopenings and is built with a low dome to keep in the heat. The flues orchimneys are in the sides of the furnace. Within, and just beneath theopenings or working-holes, stand the great clay pots of molten batch. These pots are made for us from New Jersey clay; formerly we used tomake them ourselves, but it was a great deal of trouble, and we nowfind it simpler to buy them. They vary in cost from thirty toseventy-five dollars, according to their size. "

"And they are liable to break the first time they are used, " whisperedGiusippe in a jesting undertone. 

Mr. Wyman caught his words. 

"Ah, you know something of glass-making then, my young man?"

"A little. "

"The pots are, as you say, a great lottery. Sometimes one will be inconstant use three months or longer, and do good service; on the otherhand a pot may break the first time using and let all the melt into thefurnace. Then we have a lively time, I can tell you, ladling it out, and taking care in the meantime that none of the other pots are upset. "

Giusippe nodded appreciatively. 

Many a day just such a catastrophe had occurred when he had beenworking; vividly he recalled how all the men had been forced to come tothe rescue. 

"Are the pots filled to the top with batch?" asked Mr. Cabot. 

"Yes, we charge them pretty solid; but the raw material loses bulk inmelting, so they have to be filled in as the melt settles. At the endof ten or twelve hours we have a refilling or _topping out_, as wecall it; usually this is enough. The first fill must become fluid andits gases must escape before any more material is added; we also haveto be sure when we put the pots in the furnace that the temperature ishigh enough to melt the batch immediately, or the glass will go bad. "

"What do you use for fuel?"

"Crude oil. In the West they can get natural gas, and there they oftenmelt the batch in tanks instead of pots. But we find crude oil quitesatisfactory. You can readily understand that we cannot burn any fuelthat gives off a waste product such as coal dust or cinders, because ifwe did such matter would get into the melt and speck the glass, causingit to be imperfect. Much of the work done by the earliest glass-makerswas specked in this way, and in fact the genuineness of old glass issometimes determined from these very imperfections. "

"I see, " Mr. Cabot nodded. 

"After the melt is in a fluid state it throws to the top, provided theheat is sufficient, many impurities such as bubbles and scum. Theseare, of course, skimmed off--a process called plaining. Afterward thehot material has to be cooled before it can be worked, and reducedfrom fluid to a thicker consistency. This we call _standing off_ or_fining_. "

"How long does it take to melt the batch and get it ready to use?"

"About three days. We run a relay of furnaces--three of them--and planso that a melt will be ready to be worked every other day; in that waywe keep plenty of usable material on hand. "

"And then?"

"Then we are ready to go ahead and blow it. We make nothing but thebetter grades of blown glass here; that is, no window glass or cheappressed ware. Of course there are some patterns, such as fluted designsand their like, which cannot be entirely fashioned by the blower;therefore these are first blown as nearly the required size as possibleand are then made into the desired form by shutting them inside ironmoulds and squeezing them into the proper shape. You shall see it donelater on. "

He now led them up to where a gatherer stood at one of theworking-holes of the furnace. 

"This man, " explained Mr. Wyman, "is collecting on his blow-pipe enoughglass to make a pitcher. He uses his judgment as to the amountnecessary, but so often has he estimated it that he seldom gets eithertoo much or too little. He will next carry it to the blower, who willblow it into a long, pear-shaped cylinder the size he wants the pitcherto be. "

They followed, and with much interest watched a great Swede fill hislungs and blow into the smaller end of the iron pipe with all hisstrength; immediately the ball of soft, red-hot glass began to takeform. With incredible speed the blower flattened its base upon a marveror table topped with sheet iron. A short iron rod or pontil was nextfastened to the middle of the bottom of the pitcher in order that theblower might hold it, and after this had been done the blow-pipe wasdetached. The glass-maker sat in a sort of backless chair which hadlong, flat, metal-covered arms at either side, and as he worked herolled the rod with its plastic material back and forth along one ofthese iron arms to shape it. He then took his shears and, making anincision at the middle of the back of the jug, he began to cut the topinto the shape he wanted it, depending entirely on his eye for theoutline. Then quick as a flash he seized a bit of round metal notunlike a beet in shape and, pressing it inside the soft glass, made thedepression for the nose. All this was done in much less time than ittakes to tell it. A small boy, or carrier, now bobbed up at just theproper moment and taking the pitcher on his wooden fork carried it offto a small furnace where it was reheated at the opening or "gloryhole. " This little furnace, Mr. Wyman said, was used only for thepurpose of softening glass objects which became chilled in the modelingand began to be hard and less pliable. As soon as the boy brought thepitcher back another lad, as if calculating by magic the precise momentat which to appear, approached with a small mass of molten glass at theend of his gathering-iron. This he stuck firmly against the pitcher atthe correct spot to form the base of the handle; the modeler snippedoff with his shears as much of the soft glass as he thought necessary, turned it up, and in the twinkling of an eye fastened the upper end ofthe handle in place. Then he surveyed his handiwork an instant to makesure that it was symmetrical, straightened it just a shade with hisbattledore of charred wood, and passed it over to the carrier, who boreit off to be baked. 

"Why do they use so much charred wood for the shaping?" inquired Jean. 

"Metal things are liable to mark the glass, leaving upon it a print, scratch, or other imperfection; charred wood, when worn down, isabsolutely smooth and cannot mar the material. "

"Oh, yes, I see. And where have they taken the pitcher now?"

"We will follow it, " replied the foreman. 

Escorting them across the room he showed them a low oven or kiln. Thedoor of it was open, and inside they could see all sorts of glasswarewhich had just been finished. 

"Here is where your pitcher will remain for the next three days, " saidhe. "We build a fire, put the completed glass in the oven, and leave itthere until the fire goes out and the oven gradually cools; we call theprocess annealing. It prevents the glass from breaking when exposed tofriction or to the atmosphere. Glass is very brittle, and extremelysensitive to heat and cold. If it were not annealed it would not bestrong, and would snap to pieces the moment it came in contact with theouter air. Now it is very difficult to anneal glass, the trouble beingthat all hollow ware is one temperature on the inside and another onthe outside. Hence, when heated, the inside takes longer to cool. Anycurrent of cold air that strikes it will fracture it. So, as you canreadily see, an annealing kiln or oven must be arranged in such a waythat it will allow the two surfaces to cool simultaneously. "

"I think I understand, " answered Jean. "And you say these things muststay in the kiln about three days?"

"Yes, the kiln takes about that time. It is a slow process, because wehave practically no way of regulating its heat. A lehr does the workmuch quicker. Over here you will see one. It is a long arch or ovenopen at both ends. The glassware travels in iron pans along a movingsurface from the hot oven, or receiving end, to the cool, ordischarging end. The temperature of the lehr can be scientificallytested and regulated, and this is very necessary, because the heavyglass intended for cutting can stand a greater heat than can ordinaryhollow ware such as vials and table glass. We regulate the ovenaccording to what we are annealing in it. It does not take so long toanneal glass in a lehr as in a kiln, and therefore in many factoriesonly lehrs are used. If you will come around to the cool end you cansee some of the finished pieces being taken out. Each object is made bya certain set or gang of workmen--a shop, we call it. The work of eachshop when taken from the lehr is put in a box by itself and is thencounted up, and the men paid according to the number of perfect objectsfinished. It is piece work. For instance, one shop makes only pitchers, another wine-glasses, another vases, and so on. Every group has itsspecialty, and each workman in the team understands exactly what hispart is in the whole. The common interest of turning out as manyperfect pieces as possible spurs each man to work as rapidly, well, andhelpfully as he can. "

"Just like a football squad, Uncle Bob, " laughed Jean. 

"Exactly, " nodded Mr. Wyman. "After the finished glass is taken fromthe kiln or lehr it goes to the examining room, where girls dip it inclear water and hold it to the light to test it for imperfections; thenit is sorted, packed, and shipped. "

"And vases, sugar-bowls, tumblers, and most of the hollow glassware ismade in the same way?" inquired Mr. Cabot. 

"Yes, practically so. The general scheme is the same. As I told you, there are some difficult designs which must be squeezed into shape inmoulds. These are of iron, and for the convenience of the blowers areset in holes in the floor. They are made in two parts joined by ahinge. The molten glass is blown to the approximate size and then a boyshuts it inside the mould and the blower blows into it until it hasentirely filled out the mould in which it is confined. When released itis shaped to the form required. "

[Illustration: "IT IS SHAPED TO THE FORM REQUIRED"]

"But doesn't it stick to the mould?"

"Seldom. The moulds are painted over on the inside with a preparationwhich prevents the glass from sticking. "

"Do you cut any glass here?"

"Oh, yes. Cut glass is made from the heavier crystal variety. Thedesign is roughly outlined upon it in white and then the cutter placesthe part to be cut against an emery-wheel, which grinds out the groovesand figures and makes the pattern. Just above each cutter's revolvingwheel is suspended a funnel of wet sand, and this drops at intervalsupon the turning disc and cools it; otherwise it would become so hotfrom the friction that it could not be used. After the design has beencut on the emery-wheel all its rough edges are smoothed off on a stoneof much finer grain. I can show you our glass cutters at work if youwould care to see them. "

"Oh, do let's see them, Uncle Bob, " begged Jean. 

"All right; but only for a few moments. We have already taken too muchof Mr. Wyman's time, I fear. And besides, I must be back in town forluncheon, " answered Mr. Cabot. 

Accordingly they went on into the next room, where Jean became sofascinated by the whirring wheels and the men whose steady hands guidedthem that it was with difficulty she could be persuaded to leave andstart for home. 

"Do you think, little lady, that when you get back to Boston you canmix up some glass for us and bake it in Hannah's oven?" questionedUncle Bob of her when they were at last in the car. 

"I am not sure, " replied the girl with a bright smile. "But certainly Ihave a much clearer idea how to do it than I had before I went out tothe factory. In future when you and Giusippe talk glass-making I can atleast be a bit more intelligent. I think, too, I appreciate now howwonderful it was that the Egyptians, Persians, and Syrians discoveredin those far-off days how to make glass. I am not at all sure, Giusippe, that when we go to Pittsburgh I shall not steal your tradeand apply to Uncle Tom for a place in his factory. "

Mr. Cabot pinched her cheek playfully. 

"I guess you'd better stick to dressing dolls, " he said. 

CHAPTER IX

A REUNION

At length all too soon for Uncle Bob and Hannah, and indeed far soonerthan Jean and Giusippe had realized, October came, and the time forstarting for Pittsburgh was at hand. To the young people theirdeparture was not without its anticipations. Jean longed to see Beaconand Uncle Tom, and Giusippe burned with eagerness to take up theposition his uncle had secured for him at Mr. Curtis's factory. 

"How odd it is, Giusippe, " Jean mused one day, "that we each have anuncle waiting for us. And besides that you have an aunt, too, haven'tyou? I wish I had. I'd love to have an aunt! As it is I have onlyBeacon. "

"Maybe you'll have one some day, " was Giusippe's vaguely consolinganswer. "But anyway I shouldn't think you would care much. You haveMiss Cartright, and she is almost as good as an aunt. "

"I suppose she is something like one, " admitted Jean, "only, you see, she doesn't live where I do, so I can't see her very often. Of courseshe has sent me nice letters since she got home to New York andsometimes she writes Uncle Bob, too; but it isn't really like seeingher. When I think that the day after to-morrow she is to meet us in NewYork it seems too good to be true. Won't it be fun? I love MissCartright! Do you suppose she looks just the same as she did when shewas with us on the steamer?"

"I suppose so. Your uncle said she did when he saw her in New York. "

"I know it. He has had lots of chances to see her because he has beenover there so many times on business trips. I wish we had. But we shallsee her now, anyway. Oh, I am so glad!" Jean whirled enthusiasticallyround the room. "I think we are to have a pretty nice visit in New Yorkif we do all the things Uncle Bob is planning to. He says he is goingto take us to the studio of one of his friends and show us how stainedglass windows are made. I shall like to see that, sha'n't you?"

So the boy and girl chattered on little dreaming, in the delight of thepleasures in store for them, how lonely at heart were Mr. Cabot andpoor Hannah. 

"If it wasn't that Jean is coming back in the spring I should becompletely inconsolable, " lamented Hannah. "I cannot bear to part withthe child. But she will surely be back again, won't she, Mr. Bob? Therewon't be any other plan made? You'll certainly insist that Mr. Curtissend her home to us in May, won't you?"

"There, there, Hannah, dry your eyes. Of course Jean will be back. Ihave no more mind to lose her than you have. No one knows how I lovethat child! I'd no more let her leave my home than I would cut off myright hand, " was Mr. Cabot's vehement reply. 

"The boy is a splendid fellow, too, " Hannah went on. "He has themakings of a fine man, Mr. Bob. "

"Yes. Giusippe is a very unusual lad. As time goes on I am more andmore convinced that we made no mistake in bringing him to America. I amsure that we are adding a good citizen to the country. I have a feelingthat Mr. Curtis will be much interested in him. "

"I wish he'd be sufficiently interested to adopt him and send Jean hometo us, " suggested Hannah, smoothing out the edge of an apron she washemming. 

"I am afraid such a scheme as that would be too good to be true, "laughed Mr. Cabot. "If, however, he helps place Giusippe in a finebusiness position I shall be satisfied. That is all I shall ask. "

Nevertheless, brave as Uncle Bob tried to be, he was very solemn themorning he saw the trunks brought down-stairs and strapped on the backof the waiting cab. 

"Cheer up, Hannah!" he called from the sidewalk. "Why, bless my soul, if you're not crying! Come, come, this will never do! May will be herebefore you know it, and the child will be back again. She is only goingon a visit--remember that. Her home is here. Say good-bye to Hannah, you young scamps. She somehow seems to have the notion you are never toreturn. Tell her she is not to get off so easily. Before many moons shewill find you two in the pantry raiding the cookie jar just as yourobbed it yesterday--you bandits!"

And so with a gaiety he did not feel Mr. Cabot hustled his charges intothe carriage and slammed the door. 

The trip to New York was a blur of new impressions and the city itself, when they reached it, another blur--a confusion of madly rushingthrongs; giant sky-scrapers; racing taxicabs; and clanging bells. Tothe children it seemed a maelstrom of horror. Their one thought was toget safely out of the crowd, have something to eat, and go to bed. Butwith the morning light New York took on quite a different aspect. Itproved to be not such a bad place after all. The solitary fact that itharbored Miss Cartright was quite enough to redeem it in their eyes. Then there was so much to see which was new and strange! Directly afterbreakfast Uncle Bob took them out for a stroll and after a walk in thebrisk air he led them into Tiffany's. 

"While we have time and are right here I want to show you one of themost wonderful glass products of America, " said he. "It is calledFavril glass and is made at Coronna, Long Island. Just how, I do notknow. The process is a secret one. You remember, don't you, themarvelous iridescent colors of the ancient Egyptian glass we saw in theBritish Museum? And you recall how exquisite was the turquoise glaze onsome of the old pieces? Well, the Tiffany people have tried to imitatethat, and so well have they succeeded that they have received manymedals in recognition of their skill. Museums all over the world fromTokio to Christiania have purchased collections of the glass that itmay be exhibited and enjoyed by young and old. I am going to show yousome of it now. "

Up in an elevator they sped, and alighting at one of the upper floorsUncle Bob led the way into a room rich with silken hangings and rareoriental rugs; all about this room were vases, plates, lamp-shades, andornaments of beautiful hues. There were great golden glass bowlsglinting with elusive lights of violet, blue, and yellow; there werevases opalescent with burning flecks of orange and copper; there weregreen glass plates and globes which shaded into tones of blue asdelicate as mother-of-pearl. 

"Oh!" sighed Jean rapturously, "I never saw anything so lovely! Look atthese plates, Uncle Bob, do look at them. How ever did they get thecolor? It is like a sunset. "

"The Tiffanys, like Blaschka the flower modeler, are not telling theworld how they get their results. Rest assured, however, many and manyhours must have been spent in experiments before such artistic productscould be obtained. "

"Think of the struggles with color and with firing, " Giusippe murmured. 

"And the pieces that must have been spoiled!" put in Jean. 

"But think of the triumph of at last taking from the lehrs such gems asthese! The results which air, soil, and age have by chance produced inthe ancient Egyptian and Græco-Syrian glass the Tiffanys have createdin a modern ware. It is a great achievement, and a royal contributionto the art of the world. "

The children would have been glad to linger for a much longer time inthe vast shop had not the chime of a clock warned them that the noonhour, when they were to meet Miss Cartright, was approaching. She hadpromised to lunch with them all at the Holland House. 

Yes, she looked just the same, "only prettier, " Jean whispered toGiusippe. Certainly there was an added glow of beauty on her cheek anda new sweetness in her smile. How glad she was to see them! And howglad, glad, glad they were to see her. Miraculously from somewhereUncle Bob produced a great bunch of violets which she fastened in hergown and then amid a confusion of merry chatter and laughter they wentin to luncheon. 

It was indeed a royal luncheon!

Uncle Bob seemed inclined to order everything on the menu, and it wasnot until Miss Cartright protested that not only the young people butshe herself would be ill, that he was to be stayed. And what a joke itwas when the waiter bent down and asked her if both her son anddaughter would take some of the hot chocolate!

Oh, it was a jolly luncheon!

And after it was finished and they all had declared that not until nextThanksgiving could they think of eating anything more, off they shot ina taxicab to the studio of Uncle Bob's friend, Mr. Norcross, who hadpromised over the telephone to show them the window he was making for achurch in Chicago. 

They found the studio at the top of one of New York's high buildings, and it was flooded with light from the west and south; on one side ofthe room was an open space large enough to allow an immense stainedglass window to be set up. 

Mr. Norcross, who was an old college friend of Uncle Bob's, greetedthem cordially and when Miss Cartright remarked on the airiness of hisworkshop he answered:

"Yes, I have plenty of air up here; of course I enjoy it, too. But air, after all, is not the important factor which I consider. My stock intrade is light. Without it I could do nothing. Through the medium ofstrong sunlight I must test my work, for stained glass is beautifulchiefly as the light plays through it. It is not a tapestry nor apicture--it is primarily a window. Its colors must be rich in the lightbut not glaring; and its design must be so thoughtfully executed thatthe telling figures will stand forth when there is a strong sunset, forinstance, behind them. "

"Of course, then, you must take care that the colors you use do notprove too powerful and overshadow your central figures, " said MissCartright. 

"Ah, you paint?"

"Yes, but not as I want to, " was the wistful answer. "I do portraits. So I can readily see that your problem is a unique, and far moredifficult one than mine. I have only a changeless color scheme toconsider, while your colors shift with every cloud that passes acrossthe sky. "

Mr. Norcross nodded with pleasure at her instant appreciation of hisdifficulties. 

"Have you ever seen stained glass in the making?" he asked. 

She shook her head. 

"Neither have any of the rest of us, Norcross, " put in Mr. Cabot. "Thatis what we came for. I have been toting these two youthful friends ofmine all over the world and together we have investigated almost everyknown form of glass, from the Naples Vase down to an American lampchimney. "

Mr. Norcross smiled. 

"So you see, " Uncle Bob went on, "I wanted them to witness this phaseof glass-making. "

"They certainly shall. How did you chance to be so interested in themaking of glass?" inquired the artist, turning to Giusippe. 

"I am a Venetian, señor. For over six generations my people have beenat Murano. "

"Oh, then, what wonder! And that accounts for your own personal colorscheme. "

The artist let his eyes dwell upon the Italian's face intently: thenglanced at Miss Cartright. 

"I did a portrait of Giusippe, " she responded quietly, "when I was inVenice a few years ago. He did not look so much like an American then. "

"Modern clothing certainly does take the picturesqueness out of some ofus, " answered Mr. Cabot. 

In the meantime Giusippe had wandered off to the distant side of thestudio and now stood before a large glass panel calling excitedly:

"Is this the window you are making, señor? How beautiful! The violetlight behind the woman's head, and that yellow glow on her hair--it iswonderful! And her white drapery against the background of green!"

Mr. Norcross came to his side, flushing with gratification. 

"The mellow tones playing on her hair were hard to get. I spent a lotof time working at them. It isn't easy to get the results one wantswhen making stained glass. "

"What did you do first, Mr. Norcross, when you began the window?" askedJean timidly. 

"I will show you every step I have taken in doing it if you would liketo follow the process. In the first place I went to Chicago and studiedthe light and the setting which it was to have. Then I made this smallwater-color design and submitted it for approval to the persons whowere ordering the window. The drawing accepted, I set about making afull-sized cartoon which I sketched in with charcoal on this heavypaper; the black lines represent the leading and the horizontalstay-bars necessary to hold the glass in place. After that I sliced upmy cartoon into a multitude of small pieces from which the glass couldbe cut and the lead lines decided upon. All this done I went to workplanning my color scheme--thinking out what dominating colors I woulduse and where I would place my high lights. "

"And then you were ready for your glass?" inquired Mr. Cabot. 

"Yes. Now selecting the glass is not alone a matter of color; it isalso a problem of thickness. Sometimes a variation in tone can beobtained merely by using a bit of heavier glass in some one spot. Againthe effect must be obtained by the use of paint. "

"What kind of glass do you use, Mr. Norcross?" Giusippe questioned. 

"What we call bottle, or Norman, glass. We get it from England, andstrangely enough there is a heavy duty on it in its raw state. One canimport a whole window free of duty because it is listed as an art work;but the glass out of which an art work is to be constructed costs avery high price. Odd, isn't it? As soon as I reach the point of usingglass I arrange it on a large plate glass easel, using wax in thespaces where the lead is to go. Then I experiment and experiment withmy colors. You probably know that in making modern stained glass agreat deal of paint is used in order to get shading and degrees ofcolor. It was toward the end of the thirteenth century that the oldglass-makers began to introduce the use of paint into their windows. First came the grisaille glass, as it was called, where instead ofstrong reds and blues most of the window was in white painted withscroll work in which a few bits of brilliant stained glass were setlike jewels. Then with the fourteenth century came those elaboratepainted canopies and borders within which were the main figures of thewindow in stained glass. From that time on the combination of stainedand painted glass was used. Accordingly we all work by that method now. So, as I say, I paint in my glass and afterward it has to be fired, allthe small pieces being laid out on heavy sheets of steel covered withplaster of paris. "

"Do your colors always come out as you mean to have them?" inquiredGiusippe, his eyes on the artist's face. 

Mr. Norcross shrugged his shoulders. 

"You know, don't you, how the firing often changes the tone, and howyou frequently get a color you neither intended nor desired. That isone of the tribulations of stained glass making. Another is when thecutters must trim down the glass and put the lead in place. You may notrealize that there are three widths of lead from which to select; it isnot always easy to choose for every part of the design the thicknesswhich will look the best. For instance, sometimes the leading will betoo strong and overwhelm the picture; again it will be too weak andrender the window characterless. "

"It must be a fascinating puzzle to work out, " mused Miss Cartright. 

"Yes; but it is also a great test of the patience. "

"Were the old glass windows made in this same way, do you suppose?"asked Jean after a pause. 

"I presume the old glass-makers worked along the same general plan, although they may not have followed exactly the present-day methods;certain it is, however, that they knew all the many tricks or devicesfor getting color effects--knew them far better than we do now. Andthey put endless time and thought into their work, no artist feeling itbeneath his dignity to follow the humblest detail of his conception. Hewatched over his art-child until it got to be full-grown. This is theonly way to get fine results. For, you see, there is no set rule for aglass designer to apply. Each window presents a fresh problem in themanagement of light and color. There is no branch of art more elusiveor more difficult than this. I must be able to construct a window whichwill be satisfactory as a flat piece of decoration; it must besufficiently interesting to give pleasure even when it stands in a dimlight. Then presto--the sun moves round, and my window is transformed!And in the flood of light that passes through it I must still be ableto find it beautiful. "

"I think that I should like to learn to make stained glass, " declaredGiusippe, who had become so absorbed that he had moved close beside Mr. Norcross. 

"Would you?"

The artist smiled down kindly at him. "In your country you have many afine example of glass. France, too, is rich in rose windows which arethe despair of our modern craftsmen. But we glass-makers are workinghard and earnestly, and who knows but in time we may give to the worldsuch glass as is at Rheims, Tours, Amiens, and Chartres. "

"What sort of paint do you use?" asked Mr. Cabot as he took up a brushand idly examined it in his fingers. 

"A kind of opaque enamel containing fusible material which is melted byheat and thereafter adheres to the surface of the glass. It must, however, be used carefully, as it possesses so much body that too muchof it will obscure the light--the thing a stained glass window shouldnever do. We should have many more successful windows if the peoplemaking them would only bear in mind that a window is not a picture, andshould not be treated as one. For my part, I make my window a window. Ijoin the pieces of glass frankly together, not trying to conceal thelead that holds them. I cannot say that I get the results either withcolors or lights that I want to get; but I am trying, with the oldmasters as my ideal. "

"Certainly you are a long way on the road if you can turn out a windowas beautiful as this one promises to be. None of us reaches the ideal, Mr. Norcross, but in the past is the inspiration that what man has doneman can do. Perhaps not now, but in the future, " Miss Cartright saidsoftly. 

"I wish I might try stained glass making, " Giusippe said again. 

"Perhaps some time you will, my boy, " answered Mr. Norcross, "andperhaps, too, your generation may succeed where mine has failed, andgive to the world another Renaissance. Remember, all the great deedshaven't been done yet. "

CHAPTER X

TWO UNCLES AND A NEW HOME

Uncle Tom Curtis arrived in New York toward the end of the children'svisit, good-byes were said to Miss Cartright and to Uncle Bob, andwithin the space of a day Jean and Giusippe were amid new surroundings. Here was quite a different type of city from Boston--a city with manybeautiful buildings, fine residences, and a swarm of great factorieswhich belched black smoke up into the blue of the sky. Here, too, wereGiusippe's aunt and uncle with a hearty welcome for him; and here, furthermore, was the new position which the boy had so eagerly cravedin the glass works. The place given Giusippe, however, did not prove tobe the one his uncle had secured for him after all; for during thejourney from New York Uncle Tom Curtis had had an opportunity to studythe young Italian, and the result of this better acquaintance turnedout to be exactly what Uncle Bob Cabot had predicted; Uncle Tom becametremendously interested in the Venetian, and before they arrived atPittsburgh had decided to put him in quite a different part of theworks from that which he had at first intended. 

"Your nephew has splendid stuff in him, " explained Mr. Curtis toGiusippe's uncle. "I mean to start him further up the ladder than mostof the boys who come here. We will give him every chance to rise andwe'll see what use he makes of the opportunity. He is a veryinteresting lad. "

Accordingly, while Jean struggled with French, algebra, drawing, history, and literature at the new school in which Uncle Tom hadentered her and while she and Fräulein Decker had many a combat withGerman, Giusippe began wrestling with the problems of plate glassmaking. 

The factory was an immense one, covering a vast area in themanufacturing district of the city; it was a long way from theresidential section where Jean lived, and as the boy and girl hadbecome great chums they at first missed each other very much. Soon, however, the rush of work filled in the gaps of loneliness. Each wasfar too busy to lament the other, and since Uncle Tom invented allsorts of attractive plans whereby they could be together on Saturdayafternoons and Sundays the weeks flew swiftly along. There were motortrips, visits to the museums and churches of the city, and long walkswith Beacon wriggling to escape from the leash which reined him in. 

Uncle Tom's home was much more formal than Uncle Bob's. It stood, oneof a row of tall gray stone houses, fronting a broad avenue on whichthere was a great deal of driving. It had a large library and a stilllarger dining-room in which Jean playfully protested she knew sheshould get lost. But stately as the dwelling was it was not so big andformidable after all if once you got upstairs; on the second floor wereUncle Tom's rooms and a dainty little bedroom, study, and bath forJean. On the floor above a room was set apart for Giusippe, so that hemight stay at the house whenever he chose. Saturday nights and Sundayshe always spent at Uncle Tom's; the rest of the time he lived with hisuncle and aunt. 

To Giusippe it was good to be once more with his kin and talk in hisnative language; and yet such a transformation had a few months in theUnited States made in him that he found that he was less and lessanxious to remain an Italian and more and more eager to become anAmerican. His uncle, who had made but a poor success of life in Venice, and who had secured in his foster country prosperity and happiness, declared there was no land like it. He missed, it is true, the warm, rich beauty of his birthplace beyond the seas, and many a time talkedof it to his wife and Giusippe; but the lure of the great throbbingAmerican city gripped him with its fascination. It presented endlessopportunity--the chance to learn, to possess, to win out. 

"If you have brains and use them, if you are not afraid of hard work, there is no limit to what a man may do and become over here, " he toldGiusippe. "That is why I like it, and why I never shall go back toItaly. Just you jump in, youngster, and don't you worry but you'llbring up somewhere in the end. "

There was no need to urge a lad of Giusippe's make-up to "jump in"; onthe contrary it might, perhaps, have been wiser advice to caution himnot to take his new work too hard. He toiled early and late, neversparing himself, never thinking of fatigue. Physically he was a ruggedboy, and to this power was linked the determination to make good. Before he had been a month in the glass house he was recognized by allthe men as one who would make of each task merely a stepping-stone tosomething higher. His uncle was congratulated right and left on havingsuch a nephew, and very proud indeed he was of Giusippe. 

In the meantime Uncle Tom Curtis, although apparently busy with moreimportant matters, kept his eyes and ears open. Frequent reportsconcerning his protégé reached him in his far-away office at the otherend of the works. Indeed the boy would have been not a little surprisedhad he known how very well informed about his progress the head of thefirm really was. But Uncle Tom never said much. He did, however, writeUncle Bob that to bring home a penniless Italian as a souvenir ofVenice was not such a crazy scheme after all as he had at firstsupposed it. From Uncle Tom this was rare praise, a completevindication, in fact. Uncle Bob chuckled over the letter and showed itto Hannah, who rubbed her hands and declared things were working outnicely. 

"Some day, Giusippe, " remarked Uncle Tom one evening after dinner, whentogether with the young people he was sitting within the crimson glowof the library lamp, "I propose you take Jean through the works. It isridiculous that a niece of mine should acquaint herself with thehistory of the glass of all the past ages and never go through her ownuncle's factory. What do you say, missy? Would you like to go?"

"Of course, Uncle Tom, I'd love to. I wrote Uncle Bob only the otherday that I wanted dreadfully to see how plate glass was made and hopedsome time you'd take me. I didn't like to ask you for fear you were toobusy. "

"I have been a little rushed, I'll admit. We business men, " he slappedGiusippe on the shoulder, "live in a good deal of a whirl--eh, Giusippe?"

"I know you do, sir. "

"And you? You have nothing to do, I suppose. It chances that I haveheard to the contrary, my lad. You've put in some mighty good worksince you came here, and I am much gratified by the spirit you'veshown. "

Giusippe glowed. It was not a common thing for Mr. Curtis to commend. 

"I didn't know, sir, that you----"

"Knew what you were doing? Didn't any one ever tell you that I have asearch-light and a telescope in my office?" Uncle Tom laughed. "Oh, Ikeep track of things even if I do seem to be otherwise occupied. Solook out for yourself! Beware! My eyes may be upon you almost anytime. "

"I am not afraid, sir, " smiled the boy. 

"And you have no cause to be, either, my lad, " was Uncle Tom's seriousrejoinder. "Now you and Jean fix up some date to see the works. Why notto-morrow? It is Saturday, and she will not be at school. "

"But I work Saturday mornings, Mr. Curtis. "

"Can't somebody else do your work for you?"

"I have never asked that. "

"Well, I will. We'll arrange it. Let us say to-morrow then. Take Jeanand explain things to her. You can do it, can't you?"

"I think so. Most of the process I understand now, and if there isanything that I need help about I can ask. "

"That's right. Just go ahead and complete the girl's education inglass-making so she can write her Boston uncle that she is nowqualified to superintend any glass works that may require heroversight. "

Jean laughed merrily. 

"I am afraid I should be rather a poor superintendent, Uncle Tom, " saidshe. "There seems to be such a lot to know about glass. "

"There is, " agreed Mr. Curtis. "Sometimes I feel as if about everythingin the world was made of it. Of course you've seen the ink erasers madeof a cluster of fine glass fibres. Oh, yes; they have them. And theaigrettes made in the same way and used in ladies' bonnets. Then thereare those beautiful brocades having fine threads of spun glass woveninto them in place of gold and silver; it was a Toledo firm, by theway, that presented to the Infanta Eulalie of Spain a dress of satinand glass woven together. To-day came an order from California forglass to serve yet another purpose; you could never guess what. Thepeople out there want some of our heaviest polished plate to make thebottoms of boats. "

"Of boats!"

"Boats, " repeated Uncle Tom, nodding. 

"But--but why make a glass-bottomed boat?"

"Well, in California, Florida, and many other warm climates boats withbottoms of glass are much in use. Sightseers go out to where the wateris clear and by looking down through the transparent bottom of the boatthey can see, as they go along, the wonderful plant and animal life ofthe ocean. Such reptiles, such fish, such seaweeds as there are! I haveheard that it is as interesting as moving pictures, and quite asthrilling, too. "

"I'd like to do it, " said Giusippe. 

"I shouldn't, " declared Jean with a shudder. "I hate things thatwrithe, and squirm, and wriggle. Imagine being so near those hideouscreatures! Why, if I once should see them I should never dare to go inbathing again. I'd rather not know what's in the sea. "

"There is something in that, little lady, " Uncle Tom answered, slippingone of his big hands over the two tiny ones in the girl's lap. "Giusippe and I will keep the sea monsters out of your path, then; andthe land monsters, too, if we can. Now it is time you children got tobed, for to-morrow you must make an early start. You'd better telephoneyour aunt or uncle that you are going to stay here to-night, Giusippe. If you do not work to-morrow you will not need to get to the factoryuntil Jean and I do; it will be much simpler for you to remain here andgo down with us in the car. I'll call up your boss and explain matters. Good-night, both of you. Now scamper! I want to read my paper. "

 * * * *

The next morning the Curtis family was promptly astir, and afterbreakfast Uncle Tom with his two charges rolled off to the factory inthe big red limousine. 

"Your superintendent says you are welcome to the morning off, Giusippe, " Mr. Curtis remarked as they sped along. "But he did have thegrace to say he should miss you. Now it seems to me that if you are togive Jean a clear idea of what we do at the works you better begin withthe sheet glass department. That will interest her, I am sure; lateryou can show her where you yourself work. "

The car pulled up at Mr. Curtis's office, and they all got out. 

"Good-bye! Good luck to you, " he called as the boy and girl startedoff. 

Jean waved her hand. 

"We will be back here and ready to go home with you, Uncle Tom, at oneo'clock, " she called over her shoulder. 

"We won't be late, sir. "

"See that you're not. I shall be hungry and shall not want to wait. Iguess you'll have an appetite, too, by that time. "

"Is sheet glass blown, Giusippe?" inquired Jean, as they went acrossthe yard. "I hate to ask stupid questions, but you see I do not knowanything about it. "

"That isn't a stupid question. Quite the contrary. Yes, sheet glass isblown. You shall see it done, too. "

"But I do not understand how they can get it flattened out, if theyblow it. "

"You will. "

The boy led the way through a low arched door. 

Before the furnaces within the great room a number of glass-blowerswere at work. They stood upon wooden stagings, each one of which wasbuilt over a well or pit in the floor, and was just opposite an openingin the furnace. 

"Each of these men has a work-hole of the furnace to himself, so thathe may heat his material any time he needs to do so. The staging giveshim room to swing his heavy mass of glass as he blows it, and the pitin the floor, which is about ten feet deep, furnishes space for the bigcylinder to run out, or grow longer, as he blows. The gathering forsheet glass is done much as was that for the smaller pieces. Thegatherer collects a lump on his pipe, cools it a little, and collectsmore until he has enough. He then rests it on one of those woodenblocks such as you see over there; the block is hollowed out so to letthe blower expand the glass to the diameter he wants it. "

"But I should think the block would burn when the hot glass is forcedinside it. "

"It would if it were not first sprinkled with water. Sometimes hollowmetal blocks are used instead. In that case water passes through tokeep them cool, and they are dusted over with charcoal to keep themfrom sticking, and from scratching the glass. After a sufficientlylarge mass of glass has been gathered and reheated to a workablecondition the blower begins his task. First he swings the great red-hotlump about so that it will get longer. His aim is to make a longcylinder and into it he must blow constantly in order to keep it fullof air. Watch that man now at work. See how deft he is, and how strong. The even thickness of the glass, and the uniformity of its size, dependentirely upon his skill. If he finds the cylinder running out too fast, or in other words getting too long, he shifts it up over his head, always taking care, however, to keep it upright. "

Jean watched. 

How rapidly the man worked with the great mass on his blow-pipe! Now heblew it far down into the pit beneath, where it hung like a mighty, elongated soap-bubble; now he swung it to and fro; now lifted it abovehis head. And all the time he was blowing into it blasts of air fromhis powerful lungs. 

"The cylinder doesn't seem to get any bigger round, " observed Jean atlast. 

"No. Its diameter was fixed at the beginning by the wooden block. Thatsettles its size once and for all; it is the length and thickness ofthe cylinder which are governed by the blower. Do you realize howstrong a man has to be to wield such a weight as that lump of metal? Itis no easy matter. Luckily he can suspend it against that wooden restif he gets too tired. In England they use a sort of iron frame calledan _Iron Man_ to relieve the blower of the weight of the glass andthe device was also used at one time in Belgium; but the Belgianworkmen gradually did away with it. "

For a long time the two children stood there fascinated by the skill ofthe blowers. 

"Suppose we go on now and see the rest of the process, " suggestedGiusippe, a little unwillingly. "I could watch these men all day, butwe have much to do, and if we do not hurry we shall not get through. "

The next step in the work was opening out the cylinders, and this wasdone in two ways. The end of those made of thinner glass was put intothe furnace while at the same time air was forced inside through theblow-pipe. As a result the air expanded by the heat of the fire, andburst open the cylinder at its hottest or weakest end. By placing thisopening downward it was widened to the diameter necessary. Thecylinders of thicker glass were opened by fastening to one end a lumpof hot metal, thereby weakening them at this point. When the air wasforced in by the blower it burst open the mass and the break thus madewas enlarged by cutting it round with the scissors. 

"Now come on, Jean, and see them flatten it out, " said Giusippe. 

Upon a wooden rest or chevalet the cylinder was now laid and detachedfrom the pipe by placing a bit of cold steel against the part of theglass that still clung to the blow-pipe. At once the neck of the glass, which was hot, contracted at the touch of the cold metal and broke awayfrom the pipe. The small end was then taken off by winding round it athread of hot glass, and afterward applying cold iron or steel at anypoint the thread had covered. 

"The cylinder is now finished at top and bottom and is ready to besplit up the side, " said Giusippe. "This they do with a rule and adiamond point mounted in a long handle. The diamond point is drawnalong the inside of the cylinder and opens it out flat. If there areany imperfections in the glass the cutter plans to have them come asnear the edge of this opening as possible so there will be littlewaste. "

Jean nodded. 

"Now, as you will see, the glass is ready for the flattener. First hewarms it in the flue of his furnace and then, using his croppie oriron, he puts it on the flattening-stone; if you look carefully youwill see that the top of this stone is covered with a large sheet ofglass. In the heat of the furnace the cylinder with the split uppermostsoon opens out and falls back in a wavy mass. See?"

Jean watched intently as the great roll of glass unfolded and spreadinto billows. The moment it was fairly open the flattener took hispolissoir, a rod of iron with a block of wood at one end, and begansmoothing out the uneven sheet of glass into a flat surface. At timeshe had to rub it with all his strength to straighten it. This done theflattening-stone was moved on wheels to a cooler part of the furnaceand the sheet of glass upon it was transferred to a cooling-stone. Whenstiff enough it was taken off and placed either flat or on edge in arack with other sheets. 

So the process went on. 

Cylinder after cylinder was blown, opened up, flattened, and annealed. So quickly did the single sheets of glass cool that it was not muchmore than half an hour from the time they entered the flattening kilnbefore they came out thoroughly annealed. They were then carried to thewarehouse for inspection and the especially fine ones were selected tobe polished into patent glass. The sheets were rated as bests, seconds, thirds, and fourths, and their average size was 48 x 34 or 36 inches, although the foreman said that sometimes sheets as large as 82 x 42 or75 x 50 had been made. These, however, were exceedingly difficult tohandle, as they were in constant danger of being broken. The mass ofglass was also very heavy for the blower to wield. 

"The great advantage of sheet glass over crown glass is that it can bemade in large pieces. Of course it is not as brilliant as crown, but itis much more useful, " added the workman. 

"What is crown glass?" whispered Jean to Giusippe. 

"It is a variety of glass manufactured by another process, " was thereply. "We do not make it here. Do you remember the bull's eye glasswindows we saw in England? Well, each of those bull's eyes came fromthe center of a sheet of crown glass just where a lump of hot glass wasattached so the blower could whirl or spin it from the middle and makeit into a flat disc. But, as you can readily understand, a sheet ofglass with this mark or defect right in the center will never cut toadvantage, and therefore only comparatively small pieces can be got outof it; there is much waste. Yet, as the man says, it has a wonderfullybrilliant surface. Now I am not going to let you stay here any longeror we shall not have time to see the part of the factory where I amworking. I'm in the plate glass department, and I intend to drag youoff to the casting hall this very moment. "

Jean laughed. 

"Before you go, though, you must understand that plate glass is quite adifferent thing from these others. It is not blown at all. Instead themelt is poured out on an iron table just as molasses candy is turnedout of a pan to cool. You'll see how it is done. "

They crossed the yard and entered another part of the works; Giusippegave the foreman a word of greeting as they went in. 

On each side of the great room were the annealing ovens, and down thecenter of the hall on a track moved a casting table which rolled alongon wheels. The pots of molten glass or metal were first taken from thefurnaces and carried on trucks to this casting table. Here they werelifted by a crane, suspended above the table, and then tilted over, andthe glass poured out. 

[Illustration: "THE MELT IS POURED OUT ON AN IRON TABLE"]

"For all the world like a pan of fudge!" declared Jean. 

Giusippe laughed. 

"I guess you would find it the stickiest, heaviest fudge you ever triedto manage, " said he. 

The instant the mass of soft metal was on the table a roller ofcast-iron was passed very swiftly back and forth over it, spreading itto uniform thickness, and at the same time flattening it. 

"The thickness of the glass is gauged by the strips of iron on whichthe roller moves, " explained Giusippe to Jean. "These can be adjustedto any thickness. Notice how rapidly the men have to work. The glassmust be finished while it is hot, or there will be flaws in it. It is arushing job, I can tell you. "

"But--but you don't call this stuff plate glass, do you?" inquired thegirl in dismay. "It does not look like it--at least not like any I eversaw used as shop windows or for mirrors. "

"Oh, it is not done yet. But it is what we call rough plate. That's thekind that is used where light and not transparency is needed. You oftensee it in office doors or in skylights of buildings. To get thebeautiful polished plate glass that you are talking about this roughplate must be polished over and over again. But before it can bepolished it must first be annealed as rough plate. It goes into theannealing ovens right from this table and comes out all irregular--fullof pits and imperfections. No matter how flat the casting table is, orhow much care is taken, the surface of the glass after annealing isalways bad. If it is to be made into polished plate it must be grounddown first with sand and water; then ground smoother still with acoarse kind of emery stone and water; next ground again with water andpowdered emery stone. After that comes the smoothing process done witha finer sort of emery and water. Last of all the sheet is bedded, as wecall it, and each side is polished with rouge, or red oxide, betweenmoving pads of felt. "

"Goodness!" ejaculated Jean. "Do you mean to say they have to gothrough all that with every sheet of plate glass?"

"Every sheet of _polished_ plate, " corrected Giusippe. "Rough platedoes not need to be polished or ground down much. It is made merely foruse and not for beauty. Sometimes to add strength, and help support theweight of large sheets, wire netting is embedded in them. Wired glasslike this was the invention of an American named Schuman and it is useda great deal; the wire not only relieves the weight of the glass butserves the double purpose of holding the pieces should any break offand start to fall. Often, too, insurance companies specify that itshall be used as a matter of fire protection. "

"But I should think if plate glass--I mean polished plate, " Jeanhurriedly corrected her error, "has to be ground down so much therewouldn't be anything left of it. It must come out dreadfully thin. "

"The casters have to consider that and allow for it, " answered theItalian. "They expect part of the glass will have to be ground away, sothey cast it thicker in the first place. A large, perfect sheet ofpolished plate is quite an achievement. From beginning to end itrequires the greatest care, and if spoiled it is a big loss not only inactual labor but because of the amount of material required to make it. Even at the very last it may be injured in the warehouse either byscratching or breaking. It is there that it is cut in the size piecesdesired. "

"How?"

"With a rule and diamond point just such as is used for cutting sheetglass. The surface is scratched to give the line of fracture and thenit is split evenly. "

"I should hate to have the responsibility of cutting or handling itwhen it is all done, " Jean observed with a little shiver. 

"Well you might. Only men of the greatest skill and experience areallowed to touch the big, heavy sheets. The risk is too great. Theyturn only the best workmen into the plate glass department. "

"But you work here, don't you, Giusippe?"

"I? Oh, I--I'm just learning, " was the boy's modest reply. 

"You seem to have learned pretty well, " said a voice at his elbow. 

Turning the lad was astonished to find Mr. Curtis standing just behindhim. 

"I must own up to being an eavesdropper, " laughed the older man. "Icouldn't resist knowing whether you were instructing Jean as she shouldbe instructed, Giusippe. Don't worry. I have no fault to find. Icouldn't have explained it better myself. You shall have your diplomaon plate glass making any time you want it. "

Then as the superintendent advanced to speak to him, Mr. Curtis added:

"You had given your pupil a good bringing up, Mr. Hines. He does youcredit. "

CHAPTER XI

JEAN'S TELEGRAM AND WHAT IT SAID

The winter in Pittsburgh passed rapidly. For Jean it was a happy yeardespite much hard work at school, German lessons with Fräulein, andlong hours of piano practising. It seemed as if the scales and fingerexercises were endless and sometimes the girl wondered which had themore miserable fate--she who was forced to drum the same old thingsover and over, or poor Uncle Tom who had to listen when she was doingit. And yet as she looked back over her busy days she realized that sheneither studied nor practised all the time. No, there was many a goodtime interspersed in her routine. For example, there was theShakespeare play at the school, a performance of "As You Like It, " inwhich Jean herself took the part of "Rosalind. " This was an excitementindeed! Uncle Tom became so interested that he got out his book andspent several evenings coaching the leading lady, as he called thegirl; one night he even went so far as to impersonate "Orlando, " and heand Jean gave a dress rehearsal in the library, greatly to Giusippe'sdelight and amusement. This set them all to reading Shakespeare aloud, and going to a number of presentations of the dramas then being givenin the city. To the young people all this was new and wonderful, for upto the present they had been little to the theater. 

In the meantime Giusippe was also having his struggles. It was arushing season at the factory, there being many large orders to fill;the mill hummed night and day and in consequence the scores ofglass-makers looked happy and prosperous. No one was out of employmentor on half pay, and none of the workmen dreaded Christmas because therewas nothing to put in the kiddies' stockings. 

With Christmas came Uncle Bob and oh, what a holiday there was then!Was ever a Christmas tree so beautiful, or a Christmas dinner sodelicious? Giusippe brought his aunt and uncle to the great house, andin the evening there was a dance for Jean and some of her schoolfriends. Uncle Bob, who was in the gayest of spirits, danced with allthe girls; introduced everybody to everybody; and brought heapingplates of salad to the dancers. There seemed to be nothing he could notdo from putting up Christmas greens to playing the piano until thebelated musicians arrived. The party could never had been given withouthim, that was certain. It was a Christmas long to be remembered!

And when he left the next morning it was with the understanding thatJean should return to Boston the first of May. Uncle Tom looked prettygrave when he was reminded that the days of his niece's stay with himwere numbered; and it was amusing to hear him use the very argumentsthat Uncle Bob had voiced when Jean had left Boston for Pittsburghmonths before. 

"It isn't as if the child was never coming back, " he told Giusippe. "Her home is here; she is only going to Boston for her vacation. Weshould be selfish indeed to grudge her a few weeks at the seashore. Pittsburgh is rather warm in summer. "

Thus Uncle Tom consoled himself, and as the days flew past tried to putout of his mind the inevitable day of parting. 

Then came May and with it a very unexpected happening. Jean's trunk waspacked, and she was all ready to leave for the East, when Uncle Tom wastaken sick. 

"I doubt if it is anything but overwork and fatigue, " said the doctor. "Mr. Curtis has, I find, been carrying a great deal of care thiswinter. It is good to do a rushing business, of course, but when onehas to rush along with it the wear and tear on the nerves is prettysevere. "

"You don't think he will be ill long, do you?" questioned Jeananxiously. 

"I cannot tell. Such cases are uncertain. He just needs rest--to giveup work for a while and stay at home. Recreation, diversion, amusement--that's what he wants. Read to him; motor with him; walk withhim; keep him entertained. Things like that will do far more good thanmedicine. "

"But--but--I'm--I'm going away to-morrow for the rest of the summer, "stammered Jean. 

"Away? Humph! That's unfortunate. "

"Why, you don't really think I am any use here, do you? Enough use toremain, I mean, " the girl inquired in surprise. "Uncle Tom doesn't--youdon't mean that he _needs_ me; that I could do good by staying?"

A flush overspread her face. That any one should need her! And most ofall such a big strong man as Uncle Tom. The idea was unbelievable. Hitherto life had been a matter of what others should do for her. Shehad been a child with no obligations save to do as she was told. Hertwo uncles whom she loved so much had discussed her fate and decidedbetween them what her course should be. Now, all at once, there was nopilot at the wheel. The directing of the ship fell to her guidance. Inthe space of those few moments, as if by a miracle, Jean Cabot ceasedto be a child and became a woman. 

"Mr. Curtis is very fond of you, isn't he?" asked the physician. "Hewill miss you if you are not here, I am afraid. Who else is there inthe house to be a companion for him?"

"No one but Fräulein, and of course she is getting older and is notvery strong. "

"Unfortunate!" repeated the doctor. 

"It is not at all necessary for me to go to-morrow, " Jean said quickly. "I can postpone it and stay here just as well as not, and I think itwould be much better if I did. " She spoke with deepening conviction. "I'll telegraph my uncle in Boston and explain to him that I cannotleave just now. "

What a deal of dignity stole into that single word "cannot. "

At last there was a duty to fulfil toward some one else--some one whoreally needed her. Jean repeated the amazing fact over and over toherself. She had a place to fill. She and Uncle Tom had reversed theirobligations; he was now the weak one, she the strong. 

With a happy heart the girl went back up-stairs. 

Uncle Tom was lying very still in bed, his face turned away from thedoor; but he heard her light step and put out his hand. 

"My little girl, " he whispered. 

Jean slipped her soft palm into his. 

"Did I wake you?"

"No, dear. I was not asleep. I cannot sleep these days. Last night Iheard the clock strike almost every hour. It has been so right along. Icannot recall when I have had a full night's rest. No sooner do I go tobed than my mind travels like a whirlwind over everything I've donethrough the day. There is no peace, no stopping it. "

"We will stop it, dear. Don't worry, Uncle Tom. The doctor says you arejust a little tired, and he is going to give you some medicine thatwill help you to feel better. Then you are to stay at home and rest fora while. To-morrow you shall have your breakfast in bed and later, whenit is sunny and warm, I shall take you for a nice motor ride. "

"But--but you forget, girlie, that to-morrow you won't be here. "

"Oh, yes I shall. I'm going to stay. There is no law against mychanging my mind and not going to Boston, is there?"

Jean smiled down at him. 

"I've wired Uncle Bob that I am going to postpone my visit, " she added. 

A light came into the man's eyes. 

"Did the doctor----?"

"No, he didn't. I decided it myself. Do you suppose for a moment I'dleave you just when you are going to be here at home and have some timeto entertain me? Indeed, no! Lately you've been so busy that youcouldn't take me anywhere. Now you are to desert the office and beunder my orders for a while. Oh, we'll do lots of nice things. We'll gooff in the motor and see all sorts of places I've wanted to see; andwe'll walk; and we'll read some of those books we have been trying toget time to read together. We shall have great fun. "

Mr. Curtis looked keenly at the girl for a few seconds. 

"Perhaps, " he remarked at last, "it won't make much difference to UncleBob if you do postpone your visit for a week or two. "

"I am sure it won't. "

There was a deep sigh of satisfaction from the invalid. 

"I'm glad you've decided to stay, little girl. Somehow it would beabout the last straw to have you leave now. I'd miss you in any case, of course; but if I have got to be home here and round the house itdoes not seem as if I could stand it to have you gone. "

"I wouldn't think of going and leaving you, dear. Put your mind atrest. I intend to stay right here until you are quite well again. "

She bent down and gently kissed her uncle's forehead. 

It seemed as if that kiss smoothed every wrinkle of worry from theman's brow. 

Quietly Jean tiptoed across the room and drew down the shade; then shedropped into a chair beside the bed and took up a book. For some timeshe sat very still, her eyes intent upon the page. Then at last sheglanced up. Uncle Tom's head had fallen back on the pillows and for thefirst time in many days he slept. 

 * * * *

So did Jean Cabot find her summer planned for her. Instead of joiningUncle Bob and enjoying months of bathing and sailing on the North Shoreshe helped nurse Uncle Tom Curtis back to health. For the breakdownproved to be of much longer duration than any of them had foreseen. Theexhausted system was slow in reacting and it was weeks before theturning point toward recovery was reached. During those tedious hoursof waiting Jean was the sole person who could bring a smile to the sickman's face or rouse in him a shadow of interest in what was going onabout him. "Her price was above rubies, " the doctor said. She wasbetter than sunshine or fresh air; she was, in fact, the only hope ofbringing the invalid back to his normal self. 

And when those grim days passed and Uncle Tom began to be better, howhe clung to the girl--clung to her with an affection which neither ofthem had felt before. It was the realization of his dependence thatmade Jean send to Uncle Bob that letter, the last lines of which read:

 "I feel more strongly than I can tell you, dear Uncle Bob, that for the present my place is here. Uncle Tom needs me and cannot do without me. You have Hannah to help you keep house and you can get on; but he has nobody but me. When he is quite strong again I will come to Boston, but until I do I am sure you'll understand that although I cannot be with you, I love you just the same. 

 "Jean. "

A reply came back by wire. 

"Goodness!" exclaimed Jean as she opened the long telegram. "I hopenothing is the matter. Uncle Bob never sends telegrams. He must havebeen reckless to spend his money on such a long message as this. "

 "You are doing just right. Stay as long as needed, but remember Boston home waits whenever you wish to come. Hannah has proved inadequate housekeeper. Have new one. Miss Cartright and I were married in New York to-day. 

 "Uncle Bob. "

Jean's reading stopped with a jerk. She was speechless. So great washer joy, her surprise, that not a word would come to her tongue. 

Then Uncle Tom remarked dryly:

"I guess your Uncle Bob was a bit reckless about the time he sent thatwire. The only wonder is the telegram wasn't twice as long. "

Giusippe was the next to find his voice. 

"Well!" he ejaculated. "And we never even dreamed it! At last, Jean, you've got your wish. Your good fairy has given you an _aunt_!"

"And such an aunt!" Jean added. 

CHAPTER XII

JEAN AND GIUSIPPE EACH FIND A NICHE IN LIFE

During Uncle Tom's illness and slow recovery Giusippe became themessenger between Mr. Curtis's residence and his office. It was, however, weeks before there was any link connecting the two. But ashealth returned there came to the invalid a gradual revival of interestin affairs at the glass works. Nevertheless the doctor was a cautiousman and at first permitted only the slightest allusions to be made tobusiness. Later, as strength increased, Mr. Curtis was allowed to lookover at home mail, papers, and specifications and put his signature toa few important documents, and since Giusippe was almost constantly atthe house what was more natural than that he should become thego-between? Mr. Curtis dropped into explaining to the boy from time totime many confidential matters and directing him as to what he wisheddone regarding them. The young Italian, as his employer soon found, wasquick to grasp a situation and could be relied upon to fulfilinstructions to the letter and without blundering. Such a person was ofinestimable value during those days of convalescence. 

So it came about that Giusippe spent less and less of his time in hisown department in the glass works and more and more in Mr. Curtis'sprivate office. Before long, boy though he was, he had quite a completecomprehension of the older man's affairs and proved himself most usefulto the head of the firm who was fighting his way back to health. It wasso easy to say:

"Regarding this letter, I wish, Giusippe, you would see that such andsuch a reply is sent. Look it over yourself before it goes out to besure that the stenographer has correctly caught my idea. "

Or:

"Go and tell Levin of the sheet glass department that I want theseorders filled before any others are shipped. Attend to it yourself, and make certain he clearly understands. "

[Illustration: "I WANT THESE ORDERS FILLED"]

To drop any portion of the detail of his mighty business upon youngershoulders, or in fact upon any shoulders at all was a thing which, buta short time before, Mr. Curtis would have considered impossible. Butnow, to his surprise, he found himself actually doing it to an amazingextent, and discovered that no calamity resulted in consequence. On thecontrary it was a positive relief to have a bright, strong, eager boylift a part of the burden which had become so heavy for the older manto bear alone. For Giusippe possessed that rare gift seldom found inthe young and often lacking, even, in elder persons--he could hold histongue. He never prattled of Mr. Curtis's affairs; never boasted of hisknowledge of the innermost workings of the firm. He did as he was told, gave his opinion when asked, and kept whatever information was doledout to him entirely to himself. 

Hence it followed naturally that when Uncle Tom began going to theworks for a few hours each day he took Giusippe with him, and when hecame home left the boy to see carried out the instructions he gave. Slowly the office force began to defer to the youthful Italian. 

"Did Mr. Curtis say anything about this matter or that?"

"Was such and such a price the one Mr. Curtis wished quoted?"

Having discussed many of these very matters with his employer Giusippewas usually ready with an answer or he could get one. For it was healone who was sure to receive a telephone reply from the Curtisresidence; he was the only one who knew at just what time of day Mr. Curtis could be reached, and whether he was well enough that morning tobe disturbed. Men desiring interviews with the head of the firm soonfound themselves inquiring for Mr. Cicone and asking him if possible toarrange things so they could have a few words with Mr. Curtis. Giusippewas the recognized buffer, the go-between who guarded the capitalistfrom annoyance and intrusion of every sort. 

"You talk with this fellow, Giusippe, " Mr. Curtis would often say. "Tell him--well, you know--get him out of the office. You can do itpolitely. Tell him I'll give him a hundred dollars toward his hospital, but keep him out of my way. "

Then Giusippe would laugh. 

He had begun to understand that the life of a rich man was no easy one. 

Scores of persons came to see Mr. Curtis: persons applying for businesspositions; persons begging money for various good causes; customers;salesmen; men wanting newspaper interviews. From morning until nightthe throng filed in and out of the office. Up to the present Mr. Curtishad been content to remain in the security of his inner domain and relyon his stenographer to fill many of the gaps. But with illness a changehad come and it was to Giusippe that most of these duties fell. 

And yet, strangely enough, nothing had been further from the olderman's original plan than to transform this foreign-born lad into hisprivate secretary. But so it came about. 

"I seem to just need you all the time, Giusippe, " he declared one day. "When you leave the house and return to your uncle's I am alwaysdiscovering something I meant to ask you and having to send the carafter you; and the moment you go back to your own job in the castingdepartment, without fail some matter comes up and you have to betelephoned for. It is no use to try to get on without you. I need youall the time. I need you here at home and I need you at the office. "

Giusippe smiled. 

"I'm glad if I can be of help to you, sir. "

"You are of help; you are more than that--you are---- See here, what doyou say to throwing up your position at the works and coming into myprivate office as my--well, as my general utility man? I've never had asecretary--I've never wanted one; and if I had I never before have seenthe chap I'd trust with the job. But you are different. You're one ofthe family, to begin with. Moreover, you've proved that you can betrusted, and that you have some common sense. What would you take tomove into your room up-stairs for good and all, and live here where Ican get hold of you when I want you? Are you so wedded to your aunt anduncle or to your work in the factory that you would be unwilling tomake the change?"

A flush suffused the boy's face. 

"If you really think that I could do for you what you want done, Mr. Curtis----"

"I don't think, I know!"

"Then I'd like to come, sir. "

"That's right! It will be a weight off my mind. The doctor says thatfor some months I must still go easy. You can save both my time and mystrength. I like you and I believe you like me; that is half the battlein working with any one. We will send to your uncle's for your trunkand whatever else you have. "

"There isn't much else but some books, " answered Giusippe. "I have beenbuying a few from time to time as I could afford them. "

"Box them up and send them over. Send everything. This is to be yourfuture home, you understand. And by the by, we'll give you that otherroom adjoining your bedroom. You will need a bit more space. I willhave a desk and some book-shelves put in there. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"We'll call that settled, then. It is going to be very helpful to haveyou right here on the spot. It is the person who aims to be of servicewho is really valuable in the world. Look at Jean. In her way she hasbeen doing the same thing that you have. When she found I was in a holeand needed her she gave up her vacation in the East without a murmur. Isha'n't forget it, either. Come in, missy. I'm talking about you. "

Jean, who had paused on the threshold of the room, entered smiling. 

"You caught me at just the right moment, little lady. I was slanderingyou, " went on Mr. Curtis. "I was saying to Giusippe that I never againcan get on without you two young persons. Why, this old house was quietas the grave before you came into it. I cannot imagine how I everexisted here alone all these years. The piano wasn't opened from oneend of the year to the other, and when I unlocked the door and came inthere wasn't a single sound anywhere. As I look back on it I guess Ispent about all my time at the Club. But since you came it has beendifferent. I've liked it a whole lot better, too. Now I feel as if Ireally had a home. "

Jean bent down and kissed him. 

"When I get older, " she said, "I mean that you shall have even a nicerhome. Fräulein will be an old lady soon, Uncle Tom, and will not beable to take care of things as she does now. Then I'm going to ask herto teach me to market and to keep house. If you are to make Giusippeyour secretary it is only fair that you should give me a position, too. I'll be your housekeeper. You'll see what a good one I shall make afterI've learned how. I should love to do it. A girl--a really, truly girl, Uncle Tom, can't help wanting to keep house for somebody. "

"No more she can, dear, and she ought to want to, too. It is her workin the world to be a homemaker--the one who touches with comfort andwith beauty the lives of those about her. You shall be housekeeper forGiusippe and me, little girl, and shall make out of these four walls areal home. That is what your new Aunt Ethel is to do for your UncleBob. "

"I know it, " answered Jean softly. "Even Uncle Bob couldn't get onwithout some one to look after him, could he?"

"No, " answered Mr. Curtis, "and it is fortunate he has found some oneif you are to be my housekeeper. If he makes any trouble we'll justremind him that it was only your summers that you were to spend withhim. Your winters belong to me. "

"I don't believe he will quarrel about it, " was Jean's answer. "Hewon't need me now, and he will understand that you do. "

"I sure do, " replied Uncle Tom, drawing the girl to his side. "I needboth of you--my boy and my girl. "

The stories in this series are:

THE STORY OF COTTONTHE STORY OF GOLD AND SILVERTHE STORY OF LUMBERTHE STORY OF WOOLTHE STORY OF IRONTHE STORY OF LEATHERTHE STORY OF GLASSTHE STORY OF SUGAR