Jerry Junior | Page 7

rider saluted politely and
indifferently, and jangled on. The young man scowled after him
maliciously until the cypresses hid him from view; then he turned and
took up the dusty road back towards the Hotel du Lac.
It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding the
parrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the
road in a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome
him back, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news.
"You are returned, signore?"
The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally.
"Yes, Gustavo, I am returned--with thanks."
"You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?"
"Yes, I saw her."
"And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?"
"Yes, Gustavo, she is--and just about equally remote. You may make
out my bill."
The waiter's face clouded.
"You do not wish to remain longer, signore?"
"Can't stand it, Gustavo; it's too infernally restful."
Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing.
His face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite.
"Si, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?"

"Tomorrow morning for the first boat."
Gustavo 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. Già, 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 to
put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all
sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--fino--fino--and
some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh."
"Sank you, signorina. Subitissimo!"
He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin
streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on
the Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still
preserved a measure of dignity.
The young man in the summer house had meanwhile dropped his
cigarette upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with
the utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he
might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer
house was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they
would not have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course,
but he had already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it
was not such very bad eavesdropping. The court-yard of the Hotel du
Lac was public property; he had been there first, he was there by rights

as