The young man gazed down on the three ladies, who felt seated on
the floor, so low were their chairs.

"My father," he said, "is in his bath, so you cannot thank him
personally. But any message given by you to me will be given by
me to him as soon as he comes out."

Miss Bartlett was unequal to the bath. All her barbed civilities
came forth wrong end first. Young Mr. Emerson scored a notable
triumph to the delight of Mr. Beebe and to the secret delight of
Lucy.

"Poor young man!" said Miss Bartlett, as soon as he had gone.

"How angry he is with his father about the rooms! It is all he
can do to keep polite."

"In half an hour or so your rooms will be ready," said Mr. Beebe.
Then looking rather thoughtfully at the two cousins, he retired
to his own rooms, to write up his philosophic diary.

"Oh, dear!" breathed the little old lady, and shuddered as if all
the winds of heaven had entered the apartment. "Gentlemen
sometimes do not realize--" Her voice faded away, but Miss
Bartlett seemed to understand and a conversation developed, in
which gentlemen who did not thoroughly realize played a principal
part. Lucy, not realizing either, was reduced to literature.
Taking up Baedeker's Handbook to Northern Italy, she committed to
memory the most important dates of Florentine History. For she
was determined to enjoy herself on the morrow. Thus the half-hour