old Lenz when Tina defiantly announced her preference for the driver of
the Zweispanner. Old Lenz came of a long and distinguished line of
Swiss hotel-keepers, noted for the success with which they squeezed the
last attainable centime from the reluctant traveller. It was bad enough
that he had no son to inherit his justly celebrated hotel
(_pension_ rates for a stay of not less than eight days), but he
hoped for a son-in-law, preferably of Swiss extraction, to whom he
might, in his old age, hand over the lucrative profession of
deferentially skinning the wealthy Englishman. And now Tina had
deliberately chosen a reckless, unstable Italian who would, in a short
time, scatter to the winds the careful accumulation of years.

"Pietro, the scoundrel, will not have one piastra of my money," cried
the old man wrathfully, dropping into Italian as he was speaking about
a native of Italy.

"No, I shall see that he doesn't," said the girl. "I shall hold the
purse, and he must earn what he spends."

"But if you marry him, you will not have any of it."

"Oh yes, I shall, papa," said Tina confidently; "you have no one else
to leave it to. Besides, you are not old, and you will be reconciled to
our marriage long before there is any question of leaving money."

"Don't be so sure of that," returned the hotel-keeper, much mollified,
because he was old and corpulent, and red in the face.

He felt that he was no match for his daughter, and that she would
likely have her own way in the long run, but he groaned when he thought