Carolyn Wells

“ Then to Patty’s delight they stopped at a sidewalk café, and ate ices and little cakes, while they enjoyed the novel scenes all about.
Often whole families would be gathered round the tables, and little children would sit contentedly nibbling at buns or pastry.
“It’s lovely,” said Patty, with a little sigh, as she finished her ice; “I wouldn’t live here for anything, but I do enjoy seeing it all.”
“So do I,” said Flo. “But I’m ’most sure I’ll like Venice better than Florence. Shan’t you, Patty?”
“Yes, I expect so. I like Rome better, too; but still, Florence is a lovely city. ”

“ It was all most curious, and though somewhat gruesome, Patty was fascinated at the strange sight.
“Ask him if he likes it,” she said to Peter, and when asked, he answered at great length, and very earnestly.
“What does he say?” asked Patty, impatiently.
“He declares,” said Peter, “that to be used in this decorative way is the greatest honour a Capuchin monk can have. To gain it, a monk must have been in the monastery for twenty-five years, and he’s awfully afraid he’ll die before he earns his right to be a fresco.”
“Ugh!” said Milly, with a shiver, “I hate it! Let’s go out into the sunlight.” ”

“ Where shall we go, Flo?”
“To Dante’s House,” was the prompt reply. “We haven’t seen that.”
“All right,” said Patty; “to Dante’s House, Carlo.”
“Non, ladies, non,” was the unexpected reply. “To the great galleries? yes. To the great monuments? yes. To the gardens? yes. But to a house—a so plain, uncertain house—which in maybe Dante was born,—maybe no,—no, we do not go to Dante’s house. It is a foolishness.”
Patty laughed. She well knew Carlo’s dictatorial ways, and if he didn’t think Dante’s House worth seeing, it probably wasn’t. ”

“ Late in the afternoon they reached London, and as they left the train and found themselves in the ponderous bustle of the railway station, going through the usual distracting hunt for their luggage, Patty’s love for the great city came back to her, and she remarked to Nan that she greatly preferred city to country at any time.
“You are a chameleon, Patty,” said Nan, laughing. “I always said you were. Wherever you are, you immediately claim that it’s the best place in the world.”
“And a happy disposition, that is,” broke in Mr. Fairfield. ”

“ First they walked through a long, straight marble-lined corridor that had been cut horizontally into the cliff. From this a vertical elevator-shaft was cut straight up to the hotel itself, many feet above. The ride up in the elevator seemed interminable, but at last they stepped out into a beautiful glass-enclosed parlour, from which Naples could be seen below them in every direction.
“Oh! oh!” exclaimed Patty, running from the view of the bay to that of Vesuvius, and then to the city view.
“I never saw such a fascinating place! Stay over another steamer, Daddy; don’t let’s go home yet.” ”

“ It’s my bad luck never to be let to rest long in my own country.”
“Oh, come now, Snippy,” said Flo; “you’re glad to be in Rome, you know you are.”
“Not in this stuffy place, Miss Flo. Italian air is bad and close enough, without stifling a body with velvet hangings pulled all about. And thick carpets, snug from wall to wall. As well be shut up in a jewel-case!”
“It is exactly like a jewel-case,” said Patty, laughing at the apt illustration. “All the rooms in Rome are, I believe.”
“Well, I like it,” said Flo; “and I’m so glad to be with you, Patty. ”

“ Patty said little, but leaning back in the rather bumpy old vehicle, she revelled in the beauty all around her, and stored it away in her memory for future years.
“We’ve had a perfect morning,” said Patty, as she joined her parents at luncheon. “Peter Homer,—we all call each other by our first names now,—is the loveliest man to go about with. He knows everything, but he never flings information at you till you want it.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ Patty looked from the window at the thick ropes of grapevines which festooned one tree to another in the orchards past which their train was flying.
“Great!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining at the beautiful sight. “They look like the Alpine travellers, who are roped together for safety.”
“Nonsense,” said practical Flo, “what’s the use of roping yourselves together if you’re standing still? They’re not moving.”
195
“Well,” said Patty, “our train goes so fast that it makes them look as if they were moving; so it’s well they’re tied together.” ”

“ Lady Hamilton treated her young guest to a haughty, disdainful stare.
“If you will talk in barbaric jargon,” she said, “you can’t expected civilised people to understand you.”
Patty had an open letter in her hand, and as she fell sideways into a big easy-chair, she gave her hostess a dear little smile of apology.
“It is horrid, I know,” she said, contritely. “I don’t know why the excessively correct and well-bred atmosphere of Markleham Grange should bring out my worst American slang, but it does. I beg your pardon, Kitty, and I’ll try to mend my ways.” ”

“ The man pointed to large-lettered sign, which unmistakably announced Milano.
“Flo,” said Patty, in a scared, little voice, “I don’t know what it means, but it seems we are in Milan instead of in Venice.”
“Oh, Patty!” gasped Flo, as she clung desperately to Patty’s arm; “what shall we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Patty, slowly; “it’s a pretty serious thing for two girls to be alone in the middle of the night in a strange Italian city.
“But I took the train for Venice,” said Patty to the man, and her tone had in it a faint tinge of accusation, though of course the man was in no way responsible. ”

“ This performance this morning is just an escapade. Into each life some escapades must fall, you know. And, by the way, if you’ll disentangle your eyes from my gaze just for a minute, and look the other way, you’ll see the august Sir Otho coming, with ‘bless you, my children’ written legibly in every line of his shining morning face.”
Sir Otho came toward them with hearty greetings.
“Well, well, Patty,” he said; “so you already know our friend Austin? That’s good, that’s good! But you must be afraid of him, for he’s one of our coming poets. He’s already a celebrity, you know.” ”

“ My life is nothing but folly.”
“But folly and happiness are twins,” said he, looking kindly at the girl, and when kindness shone in Peter Homer’s blue eyes he was indeed attractive.
“They are,” agreed Patty; “but pray how do you know what the word folly means?”
“His folly is being wise,” broke in Cadwalader Oram.
“Good for you, Caddy!” exclaimed Floyd Austin. “If that didn’t have a vaguely familiar ring about it, I should say you’d made an epigram.”
“Well, let’s say it all the same,” said Flo Carrington; “he may never come any nearer to one.”
“I don’t want to,” returned Oram. ”

“ Soon she and Nan were sleeping quietly in the funny, narrow beds that were so like shelves, and the next thing Patty knew was a knocking at the door of the compartment.
She was awake in an instant and shook the sleeping Nan.
“Wake up,” she whispered, “there’s a brigand knocking at the door.”
“Nonsense!” said Nan, rubbing her eyes, “what do you mean?” The knock was repeated and Nan jumped up.
“What shall we do?” she said. “Perhaps we’d better not answer at all.”
But the knocks became more peremptory, and throwing on a kimono, Nan went to the door, and without opening it, said, “Who’s there?” ”

“ Fairfield, having pronounced against a restaurant dinner, had a delightful meal sent up to their own cosy drawing-room, and the three greatly enjoyed their family reunion.
“You people are the best,” declared Patty, as she lingered appreciatively over her somewhat scanty portion of ice cream. “By the way,” she interrupted herself, “I know why in London they always say ‘ice,’ instead of ‘ice cream.’ It’s because they never serve enough of it to justify the longer title, though it’s of the same materials and quite as good as the American variety. ”

“ Peter said, at last, “quite right! But how did you know it?”
“Oh,” said Patty, laughing, “I’m a born architect.”
“You must be!” said Peter, still smiling, “‘flubdub’ indeed!”
“Now to proceed with our plans,” said Patty. “All who will go wondering with us to-morrow morning, open your mouth wide and say ‘Ah!’ which is our club motto.”
Loud “ahs!” came from every throat, and the trip was decided upon.
“I’m president of the club,” went on Patty, “and Mr. Homer is guide, philosopher, and friend. The rest of you can be any officers you choose. It’s nicer to elect ourselves than each other.” ”

“ Well, I like it a lot better, like this, where we’re all in one room, and can see our fellow passengers, than to be shut up in those little compartments and only see our own party.”
“Yes,” said Patty, doubtfully; “but the other way is more cosy. I’ve no desire to see my fellow travellers, have you?”
“Yes; I like to look at them, and wonder what they’re like. For instance, see those two young Italian men, over there. I’m sure they’re nobles, counts probably. Aren’t they handsome?”
“Flo Carrington, you stop looking at handsome young Italians or I’ll call Snippy’s attention to you.” ”

“ At this punning, a general groan was heard from the audience.
“Cheer up,” said Peter, “worse is yet to come.”
“‘A Roman stone gathers no moss.’”
“I don’t see any sense to that,” remarked Flo.
“There isn’t any,” said Lank, amiably, “but it somehow sounded as if there ought to be.”
“It does sound so,” said Patty, encouragingly; “go on, Peter.”
“‘The Coliseum is the thief of time.’”
“That’s a good one! What next?”
“‘Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to study guidebooks. One touch of Baedeker makes the whole world kin. Tourists will happen in the best regulated ruins. ”

“ Leland,” she said, “but how did you know that pretty Milly Mills is—well, not exactly of a sunny disposition?”
“Oh, I can tell by the lines of her thumbs,” said Floyd, nonsensically. “But, tell me, how does your own sunny disposition thrive in Rome? Dost like the pictures?”
“I do like the pictures,” said Patty, with a little sigh, “if there weren’t so many millions of ’em.”
“Yes, there are some few, but then you need see only one at a time.”
“But it’s the same theme over and over. I get so tired of Saint Sebastian and his arrows, and Susannah, and that everlasting Thorn Extractor.” ”

“ Together, they looked at a number of photographs of the celebrated statue, and suddenly Nan exclaimed; “You’re right, Patty! and I know why. It’s because all these photographs are taken from too high a level. We look at the face of the Venus from below, it was made to be looked at that way. But all these photographs have been taken by cameras raised to the level of the statue’s head, or above it, and that foreshortens her face the wrong way. Why, look, in this one you see all the top of her head. Looking at the real statue, you see only the hair above her brow. ”

“ Are you an artist, Mr. Austin, that you’re so observant?”
“I’m an artist in most ways, yes,” he replied; “and I love colour better than anything else in the world. Those two shades in your cloak, now, are like——”
“Like coffee and strawberry ice cream,” put in saucy Patty, and young Austin agreed enthusiastically.
“Just that,” he cried, “and surely there’s no better combination.”
“I like lemon, myself,” began Sir Otho, and just then Lady Hamilton came trailing her soft frills across the lawn toward the group. ”

“ So Patty went back to bed and slept until the sun shone high over the Arno, in place of the moon.
The weeks in Florence passed rapidly, it seemed to the two girls. Each day Patty grew to love the beautiful city more.
“It goes along so smoothly,” she said to Nan, one day. “In Rome we were always flying around after some excitement, but Florence days just flow by, all exactly alike.”
“Why, Patty, I think our days are varied a great deal,” replied Nan, who was tying her veil, and was devoting most of her attention to that.
“No, they’re not. We always go to picture galleries in the morning. ”

“ Lady Kitty, who was waiting by, answered this herself.
“Because at large and formal teas,” she said, “muffins are not served; and if one’s friends drop in unexpectedly, muffins are rarely ready. It is my aim in life to have just so many people to tea as will justify muffins without prohibiting them.”
“At last I understand why the teas at this house are always perfection,” said Oram, rising for a moment as Lady Kitty moved away.
A newcomer had arrived, and Patty, looking up, saw Floyd Austin’s grave face in the doorway. ”