Doretta is struck by a luminous thought:
"What if I were to answer grandmamma's letter?"
In another moment Doretta is seated at her father's desk, in his arm-chair, two cushions raising her to the requisite height, her legs dangling into space, the pen suspended in her hand, and her eyes fixed upon a sheet of ruled paper, containing thus far but two words: Dear Grand-mamma.
Signor Odoardo, leaning against the stove, watches his daughter with a smile.
It appears that at last Doretta has discovered a way of beginning her letter, for she re-plunges the pen into the inkstand, lowers her hand to the sheet of paper, wrinkles her forehead and sticks out her tongue.
After several minutes of assiduous toil she raises her head and asks:
"What shall I say to grandmamma about her invitation to go and spend a few weeks with her?"
"Tell her that you can't go now, but that she may expect you in the spring."
"With you, papa?"
"With me, yes," Signor Odoardo answers mechanically.
Yet if, in the meantime, he engages himself to Signora Evelina, this visit to his mother-in-law will become rather an awkward business.
