I have watched them fascinated for long periods and I have never learned what it is they are trying to do with those big "bowling balls." They have no ninepins, so they are not trying to make a ten-strike.

Apparently, it is a game however, for now and then a shout of triumph proclaims that someone has won.

He orders the drinks and they go at it again.
"But, what _is_ it ?" I asked the Signora.
"Eh--oh--just a _Giocho di Bocca_," she returned vaguely, "a game of bowls--how should I know ?" Beyond the bowling alley is a long, narrow yard with bushes.

It would make quite a charming summer garden with little tables for after-dinner coffee.

But the Signora says that the _Chiesa_, there at the back of it, objects.