Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The jewelry was
tarnished and broken, the lace had holes in it and the furniture was
decrepit and unsteady; but the proprietor cared nothing for such
defects. All was very old, and he knew the tourist was eager to buy. So
he scattered his wares inside and outside his salesroom, much as the
spider spreads his web for the unwary, and waited for the inevitable
tourist with a desire to acquire something ancient and useless.
The girls could not be induced to pass the shop. They entered the
square, low room and flooded the shopman with eager questions.
Notwithstanding Frascatti's assertion that few in Taormina could speak
English, this man was quite intelligible and fixed his prices according
to the impression his wares made upon the artistic sense of the young
American ladies.
It was while they were intently inspecting some laces that the
proprietor suddenly paused in his chatter, removed his hat and bowed
almost to the floor, his face assuming at the same time a serious and
most humble expression.
Turning around they saw standing outside the door a man whom they
recognized at once as their fellow passenger aboard the "Princess
Irene."
"Oh, Signor Valdi!" cried Patsy, running toward him, "how strange to
find you again in this out-of-the-way place."
The Italian frowned, but in a dignified manner took the hand of all
three girls in turn and then bowed a greeting to Mr. Merrick.
Uncle John thought the fellow had improved in appearance. Instead of the
flannel shirt and Prince Albert coat he had affected on shipboard he now
wore a native costume of faded velvet, while a cloak of thin but
voluminous cloth swung from his shoulders, and a soft felt hat shaded
his dark eyes.
His appearance was entirely in keeping with the place, and the American
noticed that the villagers who passed doffed their hats most
respectfully to this seemingly well-known individual. But mingled with
their polite deference was a shyness half fearful, and none stopped to
speak but hurried silently on.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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