The drivers were mostly asleep inside them, although several stood in a group arguing in fluent Italian the grave question as to whether Signora Gani's cow had a black patch over its left shoulder, or not.
Some of the carriages bore signs: "Hotel Timeo;" "Grand Hotel San Domenico;" "Hotel Castello-a-Mare;" "Grand Hotel Metropole," and so forth.

In that of the Castello-a-Mare the man was awakening and rubbing his eyes.

Uncle John said to him: "Good morning.

Had a nice rest ?" "I thank you, signore, I am well refreshed," was the reply.
"By the way, can you tell us where the town of Taormina is?
I hate to trouble you; but we'd like to know." The man waved an arm upward, and following the motion with their eyes they saw a line of precipitous cliffs that seemed impossible to scale.
"Do you desire to go to the Grand Hotel Castello-a-Mare ?" enquired the driver, politely.
"Is it in Taormina ?" "Most certainly, signore." "And you will take us ?" "With pleasure, signore." "Oh; I didn't know.

I supposed you were going to sleep again." The man looked at him reproachfully.
"It is my business, signore.