Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
His right hand was
still in a sling.
No one was greatly surprised at his appearance, but Uncle John uttered
an exclamation of impatience. It annoyed him that this fellow, whose
antecedents were decidedly cloudy, should be "chasing around" after one
of his nieces, Beth and Patsy smiled at each other significantly as the
young man was discovered, but Louise, with a slight blush, advanced to
greet Ferralti in her usual pleasant and cordial way.
There was no use resenting the intrusion. They owed a certain
consideration to this boyish Italian for his assistance on the Amalfi
road. But Uncle John almost wished he had left them to escape as best
they might, for the obligation was getting to be decidedly onerous.
While Ferralti was expressing his astonishment at so "unexpectedly"
meeting again his American friends, Uncle John discovered their English
speaking cocchiere, Frascatti Vietri, lolling half asleep on the box of
his victoria.
"Would your energy like to drive us this morning?" he asked.
"It is my duty, signore, if you wish to go," was the reply.
"Then you are engaged. Come, girls; hop in, if you want to ride."
The three nieces and Uncle John just filled the victoria. The count was
disconsolate at being so cleverly dropped from the party, but could
only flourish his hat and wish them a pleasant drive.
They descended the winding road to the coast, where Frascatti took the
highway to Sant' Alessio, a charming drive leading to the Taormina Pass.
"By the way," Uncle John asked the driver, "do you know of a duke that
lives in this neighborhood?"
The laughing face of the Sicilian suddenly turned grave.
"No, signore. There is the Prince di Scaletta; but no duke on this side
the town."
"But on the other side?"
"Oh; in the mountains? To be sure there are noblemen there; old estates
almost forgotten in our great civilization of to-day. We are very
progressive in Taormina, signore. There will be a fountain of the ice
cream soda established next summer. Quite metropolitan, _ne c'e_?
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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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