Much too quickly the happy hours sped, and before they knew it it was six
o'clock.

All the way home on the steamer Andrea held tightly to the dried starfish
he had found on the sand, while Maria was the happiest child in Venice,
with a brooch made from the pearl shell of the Lido, which Luisa called
"fior di mare," or flower of the sea.

As they stumbled sleepily across the Square in the darkening twilight,
holding fast to the hands of their mother and father, their ears failed to
catch the faint cheep of a baby bird in distress, and they reached home
entirely unaware of the tragedy that had happened in pigeon-land.




CHAPTER IV

CHICO


When Paolo called for the children Monday morning, there was an air of
mystery about him that was distinctly puzzling. Then, too, he walked
unusually fast, so that Andrea found it difficult to keep up with him,
and finally demanded curiously, "What's the matter?" without, however,
receiving any answer.

"What's the matter?" echoed Maria, falling behind after a futile effort to
keep up, Paolo slackened his pace with a laconic "Wait and see," that was
even more mystifying.