stavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused
half way across the court-yard.

"What time does the first boat leave?"

"At half past five, signore."

"Er--no--I'll take the second."

"_Si_, signore. At half-past ten."

CHAPTER III

It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped for travel in
proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked
at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the
omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the
court-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to
his favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himself
with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance
Wilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa.
Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself
excitedly, _why_ had they come?

The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a
chair--obligingly near the summer house--took off his hat and fanned
himself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. The
girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited
two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again.

"Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!"

The bell might have been rung by any-one--the fisherman, the
omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting
alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he
waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to
answer.

"_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful
wea-thir, but warm. _Gia_, it is warm."

He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairly
bristling with good will, turned up in a half circle until they caressed
his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, and
recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her
fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her
profile turned to the summer house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting
their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was
Constance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of the
orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of
deference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language.

"A glass of _vino santo_ for the Signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish