s and laces, under a
much-befurbelowed, much-befringed, lavender-hued silk sunshade,
occupying the seat of honour. John hastened across the garden, hat in
hand, to welcome her.

"Jump in," she commanded, with a smile, and an imperious sweep of the
arm. "I have come to take you for a drive."

The footman (proud man) held open the door, and John jumped in. But just
as the footman (with an air) had closed the door behind him, and before
the coachman had touched up his horses, there came a rhythm of running
footsteps, and the voice of Annunziata called, insistently, "Prospero!
Prospero!" Then, all out of breath, her pale cheeks pink, her curls in
disarray, Annunziata arrived beside the carriage, and, no wise abashed
by that magnificent equipage, nor by the magnificent old lady throning
in it, (no wise abashed, but, from the roundness of her eyes, a good
deal surprised and vastly curious), she explained, gasping, "A
telegram," and held up to John a straw-coloured envelope.

"Thank you," said he, taking it, and waving a friendly hand. "But you
should not run so fast," he admonished her, with concern.

Whereupon the carriage drove off, Annunziata standing and watching,
always round-eyed, till it was out of sight.

"What an interesting-looking child!" said Lady Blanchemain.

"Yes," said John. "I should have liked to introduce her to you."

"Who is she?" asked the lady.

"She's the private detective I told you of. She's my affinity. She's the
young limb o' mischief for whom I ravaged your stores of marchpane.
She's the niece of the parroco."

"Hum!" said Lady Blanchemain. "Why does she call you--what was
it?--Prospero?"

"She's an optimist. She's a bird of good omen," answered John. "She's
satisfied herself, by consulting an oracle, that Fortune has favours up
her sleeve for me. She encouragingly anticipates them by calling me
Prospero before the fact."

Lady Blanchemain softly laughed. "That's very nice of her, and very
wise. Aren't you going to read your telegram?"

"I didn't know whether you'd permit," said John.

"Oh pray," said she, with a gesture.

The carriage by this time had left the garden, and the coachman had
turned his horses' heads northwards, away from the lake, towards the
Alps, where their snowy summits, attenuated by the sun and the distance
and the blue air, looked like vapours rising into the sky.

John tore open his envelope, read, frowned, and uttered a half-stifled
ejaculation,--somethin