"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.
"I bought it," responded Randolph.
"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"
"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.
The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a moment.
"Are you going to Italy?" Winterbourne inquired in a tone
of great respect.
The young lady glanced at him again. "Yes, sir," she replied.
And she said nothing more.
"Are you--a-- going over the Simplon?" Winterbourne pursued,
a little embarrassed.
"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's some mountain.
Randolph, what mountain are we going over?"
"Going where?" the child demanded.
"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.
"I don't know," said Randolph. "I don't want to go to Italy.
I want to go to America."
"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.
"Can you get candy there?" Randolph loudly inquired.
"I hope not," said his sister.
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