Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There's nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's a little stout .-- You're late," she added with a touch of severity.
"Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes." She turned back toward the donkey-man who was standing, hat in hand, respectfully waiting orders.

"Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day.

You and my father are going alone." "You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain." There was disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone.
"We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip.

Without the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles." "As you please, signorina." He turned away.
Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse.

When this plan of sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and fitting retribution.