MISS T. Inconvenienced! With haff a dozen healthy mosquitoes springing a surprise party on me all night! I should guess _so_. (_Noticing_ C.'S _face_.) But what in the land have you been about? Well, if that isn't real _tact_ now! I reckoned I'd been dealt a full hand in spots; but now I've seen you, I guess there's a straight flush against me, and I can just throw up. But you don't play Poker, _do_ you? Come along in, Poppa, do. [_She goes in with_ MR. T.

CULCH. (_alone, disenchanted_). I could _not_ have believed any amount of bites could have made such a terrible difference in her. She looks positively _plain_! I do trust they're not _permanent_, or really----!

[_He gazes meditatively down on the lapping water._

CHAPTER XXI.

+Wearing Rue with a Difference.+

SCENE--_The Steps of the Hotel Dandolo, about_ 11 A.M. PODBURY _is looking expectantly down the Grand Ca.n.a.l_, CULCHARD _is leaning upon the Bal.u.s.trade_.

PODB. Yes, met Bob just now. They've gone to the Europa, but we've arranged to take a gondola together, and go about. They're to pick me up here. Ah, that looks rather like them. (_A gondola approaches, with_ MISS PRENDERGAST _and_ BOB; PODBURY _goes down the steps to meet them_.) How are you, Miss Prendergast? Here I _am_, you see.

MISS P. (_ignoring_ C.'S _salute_). How do you do, Mr. Podbury? Surely you don't propose to go out in a gondola in _that_ hat!

PODB. (_taking off a brown "pot-hat," and inspecting it_). It--it's quite _decent_. It was new when I came away!

BOB (_who is surly this morning_). Hang it all, Patia! Do you want him to come out in a chimney-pot? Jump in, old fellow, never mind your tile?

PODB. (_apologetically_). I had a straw once--but I sat on it. I'm awfully sorry, Miss Prendergast. Look here, shall I go and see if I can buy one?

MISS P. Not now--it doesn't signify, for once. But a round hat and a gondola are really _too_ incongruous!

PODB. Are they? A lot of the Venetians seem to wear 'em. (_He steps in._) Now what are we going to do--just potter about?

MISS P. One hardly comes to Venice to _potter_! I thought we'd go and study the Carpaccios at the Church of the Schiavoni first--they won't take us more than an hour or so; then cross to San Giorgio Maggiore, and see the Tintorets, come back and get a general idea of the exterior of St. Mark's, and spend the afternoon at the Accademia.

PODB. (_with a slight absence of heartiness_). Capital! And--er--lunch at the Academy, I suppose?

MISS P. There does not happen to be a restaurant there--we shall see what time we have. I must say _I_ regard every minute of daylight spent on food here as a sinful waste.

BOB. Now just look here, Patia, if you _are_ bossing this show, you needn't go cutting us off our grub! What do _you_ say, Jem?

PODB. (_desperately anxious to please_). Oh, I don't know that I care about lunch myself--much. [_Their voices die away on the water._

CULCH. (_musing_). She might have _bowed_ to me!... _She_ has escaped the mosquitoes.... Ah, well, I doubt if she'll find those two particularly sympathetic companions! Now I _should_ enjoy a day spent in that way. Why shouldn't I, as it is? I dare say Maud will----

[_Turns and sees_ MR. TROTTER.

MR. T. My darter will be along presently. She's Cologning her cheeks--they've swelled up again some. I guess you want to Cologne _your_ cheeks--they're dreadful lumpy. I've just been on the Pi-azza again, Sir. It's curious now the want of enterprise in these Vernetians.

Any one would have expected they'd have thrown a couple or so of girder bridges across the ca.n.a.l between this and the Ri-alto, and run an elevator up the Campanile--but this ain't what you might call a _business_ city, Sir, and that's a fact. (_To_ MISS T. _as she appears_.) h.e.l.lo, Maud, the ice-water cool down your face any?

MISS T. Not _much_. My face just made that ice-water boil over. I don't believe I'll ever have a complexion again--it's divided up among several dozen mosquitoes, who've no use for one. But it's vurry consoling to look at _you_, Mr. Culchard, and feel there's a pair of us. Now what way do you propose we should endeavour to forget our sufferings?

CULCH. Well, we might spend the morning in St. Mark's----?

MISS T. The morning! Why, Poppa and I saw the entire show inside of ten minutes, before breakfast!

CULCH. Ah! (_Discouraged._) What do you say to studying the Vine and Fig-tree angles and the capitals of the arcades in the Ducal Palaces? I will go and fetch the _Stones of Venice_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I GUESS YOU WANT TO COLOGNE _YOUR_ CHEEKS--THEY'RE DREADFUL LUMPY."]

MISS T. I GUESS YOU CAN LEAVE THOSE OLD STONES IN PEACE. I DON'T FEEL LIKE STUDYING UP ANYTHING THIS MORNING--IT'S AS MUCH AS EVER I CAN DO NOT TO SCREAM ALOUD!

CULCH. Then shall we just drift about in a gondola all the morning, and--er--perhaps do the Academy later?

MISS T. Not any ca.n.a.ls in this hot sun for me! I'd be just as _sick_!

That gondola will keep till it's cooler.

CULCH. (_losing patience_). Then I must really leave it to you to make a suggestion!

MISS T. Well, I believe I'll have a good look round the curiosity stores. There's ever such a cunning little shop back of the Clock Tower on the Pi-azza, where I saw some brocades that were just too sweet! So I'll take Poppa along bargain-hunting. Don't _you_ come if you'd rather poke around your old churches and things!

CULCH. I don't feel disposed to--er--"poke around" alone, so, if you will allow me to accompany you,----

MISS T. Oh, I'll allow you to escort me. It's handy having some one around to carry parcels. And Poppa's bound to drop the balance every time!

CULCH. (_to himself_). That's all I am to her. A beast of burden! And a whole precious morning squandered on this confounded shopping--when I might have been--ah, well! [_Follows, under protest._

_On the Grand Ca.n.a.l._ 9 P.M. _A brilliant moonlight night; a music-barge, hung with coloured lanterns, is moving slowly up towards the Rialto, surrounded and followed by a fleet of gondolas, amongst which is one containing the_ TROTTERS _and_ CULCHARD. CULCHARD _has just discovered--with an embarra.s.sment not wholly devoid of a certain excitement--that they are drawing up to a gondola occupied by the_ PRENDERGASTS _and_ PODBURY.

MR. TROTTER (_meditatively_). It's real romantic. That's the third deceased kitten I've seen to-night. They haven't only a two-foot tide in the Adriatic, and it stands to reason all the sewage----

[_The two gondolas are jammed close alongside._

MISS P. How absolutely magical those palaces look in the moonlight! Bob, how _can_ you yawn like that?

BOB. I beg your pardon, Patia, really, but we've had rather a long day of it, you know!

MR. T. Well, now, I declare I sort of recognised those voices!

(_Heartily._) Why, how are _you_ getting along in Vernis? _We_'re gettin' along fust-rate. Say, Maud, here's your friend alongside!

[MISS P. _presents a stony silence_.

MISS T. (_in an undertone_). I don't see how you _can_ act so, Poppa,--when you know she's just as _mad_ with me!

MR. T. There! Dumned if I didn't clean forget you were out! But, see here, now--why cann't we let bygones be bygones?

BOB. (_impulsively_). Just what _I_ think, Mr. Trotter, and I'm sure my sister will----

MISS P. Bob, will you kindly not make the situation more awkward than it is? If I desired a reconciliation, I think I am quite capable of saying so!

MISS T. (_in confidence to the Moon_). This Ark isn't proposing to send out any old dove, either--we've no use for an olive-branch. (_To_ MR.

T.) That's "_Santa Lucia_" they're singing now, Poppa.