"Then? Oh, some confounded place or other that I can't think of. I'm not
a time-table, Patsy; but the trip is all arranged, in beautiful style,
by a friend of mine who has always wanted to go abroad, and so has the
whole programme mapped out in his head."

"Is it in his head yet?" enquired Patsy, anxiously.

"No, dear; it's in the left hand pocket of my blue coat, all written
down clearly. So what's the use of bothering? We aren't there yet. By
and bye we'll get to Eu-rope an' do it up brown. Whatever happens, and
wherever we go, it's got to be a spree and a jolly good time; so take it
easy, Patsy dear, and don't worry."

"That's all right, Uncle," she rejoined, with a laugh. "I'm not worrying
the least mite. But when folks ask us where we're going, what shall we
say?"

"Eu-rope."

"And then?" mischievously.

"And then home again, of course. It's as plain as the nose on your face,
Patsy Doyle, and a good bit straighter."

That made her laugh again, and the strange Italian, who was listening,
growled a word in his native language. He wasn't at all a pleasant
companion, but for that very reason Patsy determined to make him talk
and "be sociable." By degrees he seemed to appreciate her attention, and
always brightened when she came to sit beside him.