n her chair. "I told you if I were to bring
you, you would say something!" she murmured.

"I told YOU!" Randolph exclaimed. "I tell YOU, sir!" he added jocosely,
giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee. "It IS bigger, too!"

Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess;
Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother. "I
hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey," he said.

Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him--at his chin. "Not very well,
sir," she answered.

"She's got the dyspepsia," said Randolph. "I've got it too. Father's got
it. I've got it most!"

This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller, seemed to
relieve her. "I suffer from the liver," she said. "I think it's this
climate; it's less bracing than Schenectady, especially in the winter
season. I don't know whether you know we reside at Schenectady. I was
saying to Daisy that I certainly hadn't found any one like Dr. Davis,
and I didn't believe I should. Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they
think everything of him. He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing
he wouldn't do for me. He said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia,
but he was bound to cure it. I'm sure there was nothing he wouldn't
try. He was just going to try something new when we came off. Mr. Miller
wanted Daisy to see Europe for herself. But I wrote to Mr. Miller that
it seems as if I couldn't get on without Dr. Davis. At Schenectady he
stands at the very top; and there's a great deal of sickness there, too.
It affects my sleep."

Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis's
patient, during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own
companion. The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with
Rome. "Well, I must say I am disappointed," she answered. "We had heard
so much about it; I suppose we had heard too much. But we couldn't help
that. We had been led to expect something different."

"Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it," said
Winterbourne.

"I hate it worse and worse every day!" cried Randolph.

"You are like the infant Hannibal," said Winterbourne.

"No, I ain't!" Randolph declared at a venture.

"You are not much like an infant," said his mother. "But we have seen
places," she resumed, "that I should put a long way before Rome." And in
reply to Winterbourne's interrogation, "There's Zurich," she concluded,
"I think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn't heard h