understand, ought n't they? In any case, I 'll be guided by
your judgment. I'll wear my dina giacca, but I'll wear it with
an air! I 'll confer upon it the dignity of a court-suit. Is
that a gardener--that person working over there?"

Marietta looked in the quarter indicated by Peter's nod.

"Yes, Signorino; ha is the same gardener who works here three
days every week," she answered.

"Is he, really? He looks like a pirate," Peter murmured.

"Like a pirate? Luigi?" she exclaimed.

"Yes," affirmed her master. "He wears green corduroy trousers,
and a red belt, and a blue shirt. That is the pirate uniform.
He has a swarthy skin, and a piercing eye, and hair as black as
the Jolly Roger. Those are the marks by which you recognise a
pirate, even when in mufti. I believe you said his name is
Luigi?"

Yes, Signorino--Luigi Maroni. We call him Gigi."

"Is Gigi versatile?" asked Peter.

"Versatile--?" puzzled Marietta. But then, risking her own
interpretation of the recondite word, "Oh, no, Signorino. He
is of the country."

"Ah, he's of the country, is he? So much the better. Then he