CHAPTER
XV
The shadow of branching palms fell on the Signorina's hair and hands as she sat at work near the fountain in the garden weaving a great wreath of wild cyclamen and of fern gathered from the hillside. Assunta was watching her anxiously, her hands resting on her hips.
"It's a poor thing to offer the Madonna," she said at length, "just common things that grow."
Daphne only smiled at her and went on winding white cord about the stems under green fronds where it could not be seen.
"I was ready to buy a wreath of beautiful gauze flowers from Rome," ventured Assunta, "all colors, red and yellow and purple. I have plenty of silver for it upstairs in a silk bag. Our Lady will think I am not thankful, though
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