describe an unvisited tomb or ruin, far better worth seeing; in that of a
negative, he would smile, tell you the shortest and cheapest route, and
the amount which should be tendered to the Trappist Father. Later on in
the evening, over coffee, if he was pleased with you, he would mention in
a very impressive manner, "I am, as you probably know, Colonel Brodie, of
Hootawa." His wife, beside whom I sat at table d'hote, retained traces
of former beauty. She was thin, and still tight-laced; was somewhat acid
in manner; censorious concerning the other visitors; singularly devoted
to her tedious husband, and fretfully attached to the beautiful daughter,
for whose pleasure and education they were visiting Rome. I gathered
that they were fairly well-to-do.

It was Mrs. Brodie who first broke the ice by asking if I was interested
in pictures. Miss Brodie, who sat between her parents, turned very red,
and said, "Oh, mamma, you are talking to one of the greatest experts in
Europe!" I was surprised and somewhat gratified by her knowledge
(indeed, it chilled me some days later when she confessed to having
learnt the information only that day by overhearing an argument between
myself and a friend at the Colonna Gallery on Stefano de Zevio, and the
indebtedness of Northern Italian art to Teutonic influences).

Mrs. Brodie took the intelligence quite calmly, and merely inspected me
through her lorgnettes as if I were an object in a museum.

"Ah, you must talk to Flora about pictures. I have no doubt that she
will tell you a good deal that even _you_ do not know. We have some very
interesting pictures up in Scotland. My husband is Colonel Brodie of
Hootawa (no relation to the Brodie of Brodie). His grandfather was a
great collector, and originally we possessed seven Raphaels."