been filling the bottle in her hand. "The holy cross! Does the
Signorina see it?"

"Si," said Daphne.

"And here also?" asked Assunta, pointing to another.

The girl nodded doubtfully. Two irregular scratches could, by
imaginative vision, be translated into a cross.

"As on every one, Signorina," said Assunta triumphantly. "And
nobody puts it there. It comes by itself."

"Really?" asked the girl.

"Veramente," replied the peasant woman. "It has to, and not only
here, but everywhere. You see, years and years ago, there were
heathen spirits in the wine, and they made trouble when our Lord
came. I have heard that the jars burst and the wine was wasted
because the god of the wine was angry that the real God was born.
And it lasted till San Pietro came and exorcised the wicked
spirit, and he put a cross on a wine jar to keep him away. Since
then every wine jar bears somewhere the sign of the cross."

"What became of the poor god?" asked Daphne.

"He fled, I suppose to hell," answered Assunta piously.

"Poor heathen gods!" murmured Daphne.