handed "Pickle Johnny" over to her care, the opportunity
presented itself. For on that day the red and blue banners made the
long-anticipated trip to Torcello, that ancient cradle of Venice that
rocks on the bosom of the lagoon, miles away to the northward. An extra
oar was requisite for each gondola, and Nanni was drafted for the
occasion. Old Pietro brought with him a slender slip of a grandson, a
boy of sixteen, Angelo by name, who made up in skill and elasticity for
the robustness yet to come.

Kenwick was of the party, and in great spirits; but indeed there was not
one of them all who was not sensible of that agreeable exhilaration
which attends a propitious start. The morning was true Venetian, soft
and fair as a dream. Sweet scents were wafted over the water, and no one
thought to question whence they came. The men pulled with a will, for it
was a long trip, and all too soon they found themselves thridding their
way through low banked water-ways to the landing near the quaint old
church of Santa Fosca, their coming hailed with joy by a rapidly
recruited army of ragamuffins. Immediately upon landing, Vittorio and
Angelo were despatched to a neighbouring cottage in search of chairs and
table, and presently the party were established at their luncheon under
the beautiful colonnade of the Cathedral.

The ragamuffins, encouraged by a very ill-advised distribution of
coppers which had taken place at their first onslaught, were collecting
about the table with clamorous entreaties for _l'ultimo_. Uncle Dan had
begun it by his inability to resist the supplicating eyes of a beatific
midget who chewed the hem of her frock with the whitest of little teeth.
Kenwick, taking his cue from the Colonel, had mischievously carried out
the principle, by presenting a _soldo_ to each one of the assembly
having the slightest pretence to comeliness. Upon which the two Pollys,
unable to tolerate such cruel discrimination, had offered prompt
reparation to the feelings of the ugly ones. The consequence was, that
Vittorio and Angelo passed a lively half-hour in the role of sheep-dogs,
keeping the small and ravening wolves at bay while the meal was going
forward, dodging about after them among the pillars of the colonnade,
and conjuring them, with awful threats, to keep their distance, or else
they should receive _niente, niente!_

Happily the supply of food was double the legitimate demand, and while
the gondoliers returned the table and c