too. It does seem sometimes as if it were something in the blood. They
all get the idea that you have money, you know."

"Then I should say that it might be something in the pocket," suggested
Ferris with a look at Miss Vervain, in whose silent suffering, as he
imagined it, he found a malicious consolation for her scorn.

"Well, whatever it is," replied Mrs. Vervain, "it's too vexatious. Of
course, going to new places, that way, as we're always doing, and only
going to stay for a limited time, perhaps, you can't pick and choose.
And even when you _do_ get an elderly teacher, they're as bad as
any. It really is too trying. Now, when I was talking with that nice
monk of yours at the convent, there, I couldn't help thinking how
perfectly delightful it would be if Florida could have _him_ for a
teacher. Why couldn't she? He told me that he would come to take
breakfast or lunch with us, but not dinner, for he always had to be at
the convent before nightfall. Well, he might come to give the lessons
sometime in the middle of the day."

"You couldn't manage it, Mrs. Vervain, I know you couldn't," answered
Ferris earnestly. "I'm sure the Armenians never do anything of the
kind. They're all very busy men, engaged in ecclesiastical or literary
work, and they couldn't give the time."

"Why not? There was Byron."

"But Byron went to them, and he studied Armenian, not Italian, with
them. Padre Girolamo speaks perfect Italian, for all that I can see;
but I doubt if he'd undertake to impart the native accent, which is
what you want. In fact, the scheme is altogether impracticable."