"Mother," said Lucy, one day late in December, "Tessa says she never gets presents on Christmas Day. Those always come on Twelfth Night in Italy. What a queer idea! But she says there are processions in the churches, and all sorts of beautiful sights. Will father take us to Saint Peter's then, do you think?"

Lucy had only been in Italy six months and there were many interesting things she had not seen yet.

"Certainly," answered her mother. "Your father and I have been thinking of asking both Tessa and Beppo to spend Christmas week with us. You will enjoy the sights all the more if you have them with you. What do you think?"

Lucy was so pleased she jumped up and down in delight.

"You good, kind mother," she cried. "Of course, it will be lovely."

That very night Tessa's father was asked if he would be willing his children should visit the artist's family. The good man's face beamed with pride. Oh, yes, he was only too glad they should have such an honour and pleasure. He knew his wife would also rejoice.

There was to be no trouble about the clothes. A new suit was already waiting for Beppo, while the artist's wife had herself made two pretty dresses for Tessa.

"You are too kind," cried the peasant. His hands seemed to say this as well as his voice. What would an Italian do without hands to help him in talking? Sometimes they seem to express more than his voice.

In this way it came to pass that Tessa and Beppo bade good-bye to the little village on the hillside for nearly two weeks. They must be home at Twelfth Night, however, to bring presents to mother and Francesca. Oh, yes, there was no doubt of that.

But in the meantime it was to be a holiday. The children were not to sit as models for one minute. The artist would let his brushes rest and go about the city with his family and their young visitors.

Christmas Eve came at last, although the hours before it arrived seemed like weeks to the excited children.

A carriage drove up to the palace door. They were all to drive to a beautiful church called Santa Maria Maggiore, where the Pope himself would be that night.

"Why is he such a great man, and why do the people give him such reverence?" asked Arthur.

Tessa heard the question. Her pretty face flushed. "Why, Arthur, he is the head of our church, the Catholic Church," she answered, quickly. "It is not only here in Italy, but all over the world that we Catholics honour him!"

The little girl was ignorant about many things in her own city that Lucy and Arthur could explain to her, but she had been taught from birth to think of the Pope as the most holy person in the world.

But why was the Pope to be present in the church Christmas Eve? The children had already been told that on this occasion a piece of the cradle in which Jesus had lain was to be carried through the church. At least, Tessa and her brother and all good Catholics believed it to be a part of his cradle. They thought that by some miracle it had been saved for nineteen hundred years, and was now cared for sacredly in their loved city. Any one who wished, might look upon it at Christmas time.

The peasant children believed it could do great wonders. Why, if they were sick, and even dying, it might save their lives if they were allowed to touch it.

Tessa whispered this to Lucy as they mixed with the people entering the church. They passed along between two rows of beautiful marble columns. They were obliged to move slowly because the crowd was so great. But Lucy's father soon led them to the doorway of a small chapel, where they could stand while the procession passed up to the altar. The sacred cradle was carried first, and behind it followed the Pope with the cardinals and other high officers of the church.

The Pope was carried in a chair above the heads of the people and, as he passed along, he held out his hands to bless them as they knelt before him.

Tessa and Beppo had never looked upon him before. Indeed, they were scarcely able to see him or any other part of the procession now, because of the great crowd. But they knew he was there and that they were near him. This was enough to satisfy their pious little hearts. Lucy and Arthur were most pleased to think that these Italian friends were made so happy.

"Is that all, father?" Lucy whispered. "It is hot and close here. Can't we go home now and have our Christmas tree?"

Her father said that he was quite willing to go, for he saw that his wife was as tired as his little daughter.

An hour afterward they were in the great drawing-room at home. Many candles gave a soft and pleasant light to the room; for gas and electricity were not used in many Roman houses.

A curtain was drawn, and there stood a beautiful Christmas tree,—not of pine or balsam, such as Lucy and Arthur would have in America. It was of laurel.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Beppo. He had never seen anything like it before, for his people are not used to this custom of having Christmas trees. And Tessa's eyes sparkled, too, as she drew one long sigh of happiness. What beauty met her eyes! Was it indeed fairy-land,—these tiny lights shining on every twig of the tree; gilded oranges hanging from the branches; and toys, so many she was sure she could not count them.

Could it be true that this lovely wax doll was her very own? Lucy's father had said so, but she was afraid she might rub her eyes and wake, and find it all a dream.

As for Beppo, he was equally delighted to find himself the owner of a jack-knife with four blades, a fine ball with which he could teach the American children his favourite game of pallone, in which he was very skilful.

There were neither skates nor sleds. They would be of no use in Italy, the land of sunny skies, where snow is unknown except on the high mountain-tops.

The evening was a merry one, but it came to an end at last.

"To bed, to bed, children," Lucy's mother cried at length. "To-morrow there will be more sights, and you must not get sick over your good time."

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear.

The children waked early and did not seem any the worse for sitting up so late the night before. Soon after breakfast, an open carriage appeared at the door of the palace and they all rode off to visit the greatest church in the world.

"At last we are on our way to Saint Peter's," said Arthur. "Tessa, you may well be proud when you think of the people who come here from all parts of the world to see the grand buildings."

Tessa was proud. This was her Italy, her Rome, her Saint Peter's. She, a poor little peasant maiden, felt richer at this moment than the owner of a million dollars.

The party had to ride over a bridge before they could reach the church.

"Do you know the name of the river over which this bridge is built?" Arthur asked his sister.

"The Tiber, the yellow Tiber," she answered gaily. "You ought to remember, Arthur, that father read us the poem a few days ago about the guarding of the bridge. It made a shiver creep down my back when I thought of the three men holding the bridge against the army of their enemies. It stretched across this very river."

"It was hundreds of years ago," Lucy went on, turning toward Tessa, "that those brave men saved the city. They kept the enemy from entering until the bridge was cut down. The last one stood on guard until he felt the supports give way. Then he cried out to the river:

"An instant afterward he jumped into the rushing stream and swam with all his might back to his people and the city he had saved."

"Did he escape?" Beppo asked. "I should think his enemies would have killed him before he was able to get out of the reach of their weapons."

"They admired his bravery so much they had mercy on him and did not try to hit him after he jumped into the water. Then they turned away, for they could not reach Rome now that the bridge was destroyed."

As Lucy finished the story she could not help saying to herself, "I do hope Tessa and Beppo will be able to go to school and study about this grand country of theirs. They love it as dearly as I love America, but they do not know as much of the history of its great men as I do now."

Her father was thinking at the same time, "What a pity it is there are so many poor and ignorant people in Italy. How I wish the children of to-day could grow up and make the country what it was once."

The sun was shining so brightly by this time that the girls had to raise their parasols to shade their eyes as they looked along the crowded street. It was filled with carriages all going in the same direction as themselves. The sidewalks, too, were packed closely. There were all kinds of people; lords and ladies, priests in their shovel hats, cardinals in their elegant robes. All would soon enter the great church. Their faces looked happy and full of joy.

"Shall we not be crowded worse than we were last night?" asked Mrs. Gray. She looked a little bit worried.

"O no, you need have no fear about that," her husband replied. "Forty thousand people can easily gather in Saint Peter's and then it will not be full, by any means."

The carriage stopped in front of a long covered archway built of marble. They stepped down and, entering it, soon found themselves in the court in front of the church.

The church itself is built in the shape of an immense cross, and where the four lines of the cross meet, there is a huge dome overhead.

"I can see the dome of Saint Peter's from my home on the mountain," Tessa said to Lucy. "If I were far away in another part of the world, I am sure I should picture it in my mind whenever I thought of Rome."