IT was very early in the morning when the train pulled into the station at Rome. Patty had been up and dressed for some time, watching from the window the strange views and novel sights.

“Here we are,” said Mr. Fairfield, and Patty hurried from the train in her eager interest to see the real Rome outside of a map or guidebook.

“Well!” she said, as she found herself in a great station, not so very unlike railroad stations in other countries, “Well! if you call this picturesque, I don’t!”

“Nothing can be picturesque when you’re hungry,” said Nan, “and I’m going to get my breakfast before I express my opinion of the Eternal City.”

“Good girl, Nan!” said Mr. Fairfield, approvingly. “And I fancy Patty, too, is ready for some Roman breakfast food.”

“I am hungry,” said Patty, “but I’m so surprised at this place! Why!” she went on, as they emerged into the great square in front of the station, “look at the trolley-cars! It’s just like New York!”

“You needn’t get in a trolley-car,” said Mr. Fairfield, laughing at Patty’s dismayed expression; “here’s the omnibus that’s to take us to our hotel. Hop in.”

“Pooh! an omnibus!” said Patty, “that isn’t appropriate to Rome, either!”

“I know what you want to ride in,” said her father. “One of those Roman chariots drawn by four horses, that they race round the ring in, at the circus.”

“Those rattlety-bang things?” said Patty, laughing at the recollection. “Yes, they would be all right, only there’s so much danger of spilling out behind.”

But she climbed into the omnibus with the others and in less than five minutes they were round the corner, and stopping at their own hotel. Mr. Fairfield had selected the Quirinal, as a comfortable and convenient home for them, and when Patty went in, and saw the handsomely appointed halls and picturesque winter-garden, she said, “This is better than trolley-cars, but it isn’t so very Roman, after all.”

“You may as well get rid of your ideas of ancient Rome,” said Mr. Fairfield. “There is a little of that left, but most of the Rome you’ll have to do with is decidedly twentieth century, and very much up-to-date.”

“I believe you!” said Patty, as she noticed the fashionably attired ladies about, and the modern appliances everywhere.

Then they were taken to their rooms, and Patty exclaimed with delight at the pleasant apartment reserved for them.

“At last I’ve found something different,” she cried. “This isn’t a bit like our apartments in London or Paris. Oh, Nan, do see this gorgeous gold furniture in our drawing-room! I’m sure the Queen has lent it for our use while we’re here!”

“Grand, but stuffy,” declared Nan, as she threw off her travelling cloak.

“I like it,” said Patty; “it’s the first effect of Roman luxury I’ve seen. Do we lie on couches to eat, father?”

“You may if you like, my dear; though I believe it isn’t done much this year, in the best circles.”

Patty went on exploring, and was greatly pleased with the novelty of her new surroundings. There was a grand drawing-room, furnished with heavy velvet hangings and carpets; massive furniture, carved, gilded and upholstered in rich brocatelles; immense crystal chandeliers; elaborate mirrors, pictures and bric-À-brac; and a profusion of palms, statuettes, footstools and sofa pillows.

From this opened a small breakfast-room, also lavishly decorated and furnished. The bed-rooms, dressing-rooms, and baths were all in harmonious style, and after a tour of the rooms, Patty declared herself quite satisfied with the modern Roman notions of living.

“And only think,” said Mr. Fairfield, “the price we pay for all this gorgeousness is not so much as we paid for far simpler accommodations in Paris or London either.”

“Oh, let’s live in Rome always, then,” cried Patty, enthusiastically, “I love it already.”

“Goose-girl!” exclaimed Nan, laughing at her raptures; “go and freshen yourself up, get into a comfortable gown, and then we’ll have some breakfast.”

Half an hour later the family gathered in their own breakfast-room, and a delightful meal was served them there.

Patty and Nan, in pretty house dresses, welcomed the delicious fruits and daintily-cooked eggs, and the coffee was pronounced better than that of Paris.

“And as to London,” said Nan, “they spell coffee, T, e, a.”

“So they do,” said Patty, with a wry face at the recollection of London coffee. “Give me Rome, every time!”

“There’s this difference, too,” said Mr. Fairfield, “you girls will have to readjust your mode of living a little. In Paris, nobody gets around till noon, and then they call luncheon breakfast. While here, people get up and out fairly early, in order to utilize the morning hours, which are the best of the day. Then they come back and stay indoors during the middle of the day; luncheon is promptly at twelve, for that reason; and stay in the house till three or four o’clock, then go out again if you like for the sunset hours.”

“How funny!” said Patty. “Luncheon at twelve is very early.”

“When you’re in Rome you must do as the Romans do,” said her father, “and now I’ve told you what that is. But to-day, you two are not going out at all, at least not until four o’clock this afternoon. You must rest this morning, and then, at four, I’ll take you out for a drive. We’re not going to do a lot of sightseeing in a rush, and get all tired out. We’re here for pleasure, and we must take it slowly, or we can’t really enjoy it.”

“I’m agreeable,” declared Patty. “I can spend the day beautifully, unpacking my trunk, and wandering about this hotel, and taking a nap, and chattering with my stepmother, and lots of things. What are you going to do, Daddy?”

“I’m going out to engage a Roman chariot for you to ride about in, and to have the trolley-cars stopped, and the railroad station made over on a more antique plan.”

“Oh, don’t bother about the station. I shan’t need it again till I go home, so let it remain as it is.”

“Very well, then; now you two be ready when I come back at noon, and we’ll lunch downstairs.”

Mr. Fairfield went away, and Patty and Nan went to their work of unpacking.

Patty was of an orderly nature, and really enjoyed putting her things neatly away in the wardrobes and drawers, of which there were plenty. She was accustomed to wait on herself, and so declined the offers of help from the willing but unintelligible maid who spoke no English.

“I suppose you’re offering to help me,” said Patty, smiling at her, “but I can’t speak Italian, and I’d rather do things myself anyway.”

The little maid did not quite understand the words, but she gathered Patty’s meaning, and tripped away to make similar offers to Nan. Nan couldn’t talk Italian either, but she was inclined to have help, so, by the aid of smiles and gestures, she quite made herself understood and her rooms were soon in order.

“What a mess!” she exclaimed, as a couple of hours later she went to Patty’s room and found that young woman in the midst of a sea of dresses, hats, slippers, and toilet accessories of all sorts.

“A lovely mess,” returned Patty, placidly. “I’ll soon straighten it out. But I never could do it, with a Choctaw-speaking Roman trying to jabber out help.”

“Lucretia isn’t Choctaw; we understood each other perfectly, without words, and she’s an awfully well-trained maid.”

“Is her name Lucretia? Is she of the old Borgia crowd? Now, she’ll murder us in our sleep!”

“Like your brigand did! Patty, you’ll never get these clothes put away. I’ll help you.”

So, working together, the room was soon tidy, and Patty had the satisfaction of knowing that all her belongings were put away in proper order.

“I like them so I can put my hand on anything I want in the dark,” she said to Nan. “Though, indeed, it’s rarely I want my books or sewing materials in the dark. Or my best hat, for that matter. What would be the use of one’s best hat in the dark? Nobody could see it!”

But she easily found the clothes she did want, and when Mr. Fairfield returned, he found two very correct looking ladies, in fresh white costumes, ready to go to luncheon with him.

“I’ve good news for you,” he said, after they were seated at table; “I ran across Jim Leland, and he’s living here in Rome, and he proposes to make it pleasant for us in lots of ways while we’re here.”

“That’s lovely,” said Nan; “it’s always pleasant to know somebody who lives in a place. Who’s he, Fred?”

“I used to know him twenty years ago, but haven’t seen him since. He’s a bachelor, and has the reputation of being somewhat of a recluse, but I know he’ll be genial and hospitable where we’re concerned. He and I are good chums, though we don’t meet often. He has asked us to dine with him some night, and I’ve accepted for us all on Monday. I suppose you’ve no other engagement, Patty?”

“Not unless the King asks me informally to dinner,” she replied. “Where does Mr. Leland live?”

“Not far away. Just across the street, in fact. He has bachelor apartments, where he has lived for years, I believe.”

They lingered over their pleasant luncheon, and then strolled out to the beautiful garden at the back of the hotel.

Here there were no flowers, but palms and strange tropical plants in great variety. So dense was the foliage in some places that Patty called it a jungle, and appropriating a wicker chair, declared her intention of remaining there to read for a while.

“Do as you choose until four,” said her father, “and then your Roman chariot will await you.”

The Roman chariot proved to be a low, comfortable open carriage, that Mr. Fairfield had engaged to be at their disposal during their whole stay in Rome.

As they started off on their first drive round the city, Patty asked where they were going.

“Not to many places to-day,” said her father. “Just a drive to the Pincio, and to get a bird’s-eye view of the city. But keep your eyes open, for this drive will always remain in your memory.”

And it did. Patty never forgot that first afternoon in Rome. She almost held her breath as they drove rather slowly along the streets, and her ideas formed and changed and fled so swiftly that she scarcely could be said to have any.

Her conversation was limited to gasps of surprise and delight, exclamations of awe and wonder, and little squeals of glee and merriment.

At last she recognised one thing at least, and cried out, “Oh, isn’t that Trajan’s Column? It’s just like the Column VendÔme.”

“Good for you,” said her father, “to recognise it. Yes, that’s it, and next to it you may see Trajan’s Forum.”

“Not a very big one,” said Patty, a little disappointed, “but very tidy and set in neat rows.”

“Well, the columns weren’t just like that to begin with,” said Mr. Fairfield, “but they’ve been set up in straight rows since.”

They went on for some distance, and then, at a word from Mr. Fairfield, the driver paused and stopped at a point that commanded a fine view of the Coliseum.

Patty first sat and looked at it. Indeed, they all sat silent, looking at the great structure, as its wonderful lines stood out against the blue sky.

“I didn’t think it was like that,” said Patty, at last. “I’ve seen pictures of it, but, well, I don’t think it takes a good picture!”

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Mr. Fairfield. “No photograph or painting of the Coliseum can give the least idea of the calm sublimity of the building itself.”

They drove round it, Patty becoming more and more deeply interested at every step; but Mr. Fairfield said they would not go inside that day, as he had other plans.

So they went on, under the great arch of Constantine, and at this Patty was again dumb with awed admiration.

“How big the things are,” she said.

“And how old,” added Nan, greatly impressed with the ancient monuments.

Then they drove round by the Roman Forum. This was altogether too much, and she gazed at it, with such a helpless expression on her face that Mr. Fairfield laughed at her.

“Drive on,” he said to the man; “we’ll see the Forum some other time. Well, Patty, my child, is Rome antique enough, or is it all trolley-cars and railroad stations?”

“Oh, Father,” said Patty, and because of a queer lump in her throat, she couldn’t talk in her usual merry fashion.

“There, there, dearie, don’t take it too seriously. I want you to love it all, but don’t let it break you up so.”

“I can’t help it,” said Patty, laughing as she wiped her eyes with her handkerchief; “it’s so big,—so—so——”

“So overpowering,—yes, I know. But that’s why I want you to get used to it by degrees. Now, we’ll go through some beautiful gardens, and on to the Pincio.”

Away they went along the Corso Umberto, and passed many statues, villas, buildings, fountains, and arches, but none of them so impressed Patty as the ancient ruins had done.

“Why is it,” she asked her father, “that the ruins are so much more impressive than the complete buildings?”

“That’s partly glamour,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, for he remembered what Patty had told him of Mr. Homer’s remarks on glamour.

“And partly what else?” she asked.

“Partly the grandeur of the monuments themselves. If you hadn’t been affected at the sight of the Coliseum I should have packed you back to New York by the first boat.”

“And I should have deserved to go,” said Patty, decidedly. “I give you both fair warning,—the first thing I do every morning while I’m in Rome is to go straight to the Coliseum and hug it. After that I’ll go to see the other sights.”

“Can you reach all the way around it?” asked Nan, smiling.

“Don’t be too literal,” said Patty, smiling back. “I shall only hug it figuratively, but, oh, I do love it! The Venus of Milo has a rival in my affections. No, not a rival, exactly, for they’re too different to be compared. But they’re both my favourite statues.”

“That’s one way to put it,” laughed her father. “But here we are on the top of the Pincian Hill. Will you get out and have some cakes and ices?”

They did so, and Patty found it delightful to sit at one of the little tables under the trees, and have a Roman afternoon tea. There were a great many people about, some of whom looked like Americans, and Patty noticed two or three who belonged in their own hotel.

“Shall we get acquainted with any of the people at the hotel?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Nan answered. “There are some people from Philadelphia there, whom I know slightly. I think I’ll look them up to-morrow.”

“Oh, of course we’ll make acquaintances, sooner or later,” said Mr. Fairfield.

“The Coliseum is chum enough for me,” said Patty, with a dreamy look. “I don’t care for anybody else.”

“Glamour has hit you hard,” said her father; “we’d better be going home and give you a change of scene.”