CHAPTER X
ITALIAN VIOLETS
"DO make up your minds and let us go somewhere," Frieda pleaded. "I don't see that it is so important where we go first."
She was wearing a new lavender cloth frock trimmed in silk and a hat of the same shade, with a big bunch of violets resting against her yellow hair. From her hand dangled her adored gold-link pocketbook. So there was no question of Frieda's preparedness for beginning their first day's sight-seeing in Rome. Ruth and the other three girls showed no such signs of being ready for immediate departure.
They were together in their big sitting room, which overlooked a beautiful enclosed court, characteristic of Italian hotels and homes. And at least half an hour of their morning the girls had devoted to gazing out of their windows. In the center of the courtyard a fountain played continually—not a fountain of an ordinary kind, but the figure of a beautiful boy, with his arms high in the air, holding two great shells into which the water poured and then splashed down to the ground below. Around the enclosure were copies of famous statues and miniature orange and lemon trees.
Jack in a comfortable silk dressing gown was placidly gazing at this scene when Frieda's speech arrested her attention.
"Why be in such a hurry, Frieda mia?" she inquired. "You know we have firmly decided not to begin our labors too early. Besides, this morning we are tired and don't you see that Ruth, Jean and Olive are deeply engaged in laying out our plan of campaign? It has got to be arranged where we are to go, what we are to do on our arrival, what things we are to thrill over and what to pass by." And Jack laughed, letting her eyes rest for a moment on Ruth's face. Their chaperon's expression was so serious. Did Jack guess that her education was about to be solemnly taken in hand? Well, she felt very young this morning and very much in need of learning a great many things. Rome gave one such an overpowering sense of ignorance!
But Frieda was much displeased. "You told me you would be ready at half-past ten, Jacqueline Ralston, and let me go and dress. Now it is after eleven. And if nobody will come with me I shall just go out and walk up and down by myself."
From the pages of her Baedeker Ruth looked up quickly. It was not often that she was positive with the girls, but she had insisted that during their stay in Italy no one of them go anywhere alone.
Frieda blushed penitently. "I didn't mean it, Ruth, of course. Still, I think it's hateful for none of you even to start to get ready."
"Oh, do be quiet, Frieda, and sit down and wait, or, if not, go to your own room," Jack remarked impatiently. "I think you are forgetting our compact very soon. One more objection and you will kindly place your fine in Ruth's charge."
Without replying, Frieda marched haughtily out of the sitting room and into her own and Jean's bed room.
It was true that the night before leaving Naples the Rainbow Ranch party had made a kind of "Traveler's Agreement Society," setting down a number of rules for their mutual benefit and promising to follow them.
The suggestion had come from Olive who was always the peacemaker in all differences of opinion. For although the travelers had been only a few weeks upon their journey, already they had learned that there is nothing that is a surer test of one's amiability than constant sight-seeing, which entails a continuous moving from place to place of people who are expected to do the same things at the same time regardless of their personal tastes and inclination.
From the top of her suit-case Frieda drew forth a sheet of paper. Possibly Jack had been right, for the rules of their compact read:
First: In all questions pertaining to travel, such as the selection of places to be visited, choice of hotels, etc., the rule of the majority shall prevail.
Second: In all questions in which there is a moral issue at stake, a matter of right or wrong to be decided, the chaperon's judgment is to be followed.
Third: If any member of the party becomes weary during the course of the journey, all are to rest. (This rule was made for Jack's protection and was Olive's proposal, knowing that her friend would never voluntarily give up, if she thought her fatigue might interfere with their pleasure.)
Fourth (and this was of Jack's recommendation): Each one shall try to be as agreeable as possible to the others' friends, since it is not to be expected that they could like the same people equally well.
Fifth: If any one of the five travelers shall make three cross speeches in the course of one day, the said traveler is to pay into the keeping of Ruth Drew a fine to the amount of fifty cents, United States money. For the fourth cross speech, one dollar, and so on, with the amount doubling. And at the end of the European trip, this sum, whatever the amount, is to be employed for the purchase of a gift for the girl against whose name there is the smallest number of bad counts.
And Frieda had rather expected that this prize would fall to her. Indeed, she had quite made up her mind to attain it. For certainly she was far more amiable than Jack or Jean, and Ruth was apt to grow nervous if things went wrong. For instance, take this question of her going out on the street alone. Ruth might have known that she had had no real intention of being disobedient. Indeed, Olive was the only member of their party whom Frieda believed she had reason to regard as her rival in amiability. And of course one opponent was necessary to make the contest interesting. Really, Frieda desired this prize more than most anything she could think of—not just for the prize itself, although there was no telling what its value might be, but because it could be retained forever like a conqueror's flag to be waved over her family.
For ten minutes more, therefore, Frieda sat down in an upright chair, waiting patiently. Notwithstanding this, Jean did not even come in for her coat and hat, or with any suggestion that they ever intended leaving the hotel.
It was abominably stupid to continue loitering forever, so finally the young girl concluded to go down into the hotel lobby and watch the people moving in and out, until her family at last made up their minds to start. She would not go back into the sitting room again to argue the question with them, but leave a little note near Jean's hat explaining where she might be found.
In the corridor leading to the open front door Frieda discovered an inconspicuous place and was entirely happy observing the hotel guests and the small vista of the Roman street which she could see like a picture through the opening.
An Italian priest passed by, wearing a solemn, long black robe tied about his waist with a huge cord and a round, stiff black hat with a broad brim and a flat crown. Frieda stared at him curiously. Then a young fellow, evidently an artist from his costume, appeared, and, after hesitating a moment, entered the hotel corridor. A few moments afterwards he was joined by an older woman with two daughters in whom Frieda at once became deeply interested. They were English girls—she guessed this by a kind of instinct, they were so tall and fair and slender, with drooping shoulders and pink and white complexions. The little party left the hotel together and then there was a short interval in which nothing happened to interest Frieda particularly, except the foreign look of the people moving past in the street.
Weary of waiting, she was glancing at a queer carved clock on the wall opposite her, when unexpectedly a fragrance enveloped her. Without understanding why, the young girl felt a sudden wave of homesick yearning for the Rainbow Ranch. Why should she think of home so suddenly? For a few seconds Frieda was unconscious of any special reason, and then, turning, she beheld standing in the doorway a small Italian boy, beautiful as one of Raphael's cherubs, with a great basket of Italian violets hanging on his arm.
Frieda smiled. No wonder she had recalled her home and the violet beds planted next the Lodge in the days when she had expected to add to the family fortunes by selling flowers. This was before there was ever a thought of a gold mine hidden in Rainbow Creek.
What fun to buy a lot of violets for Ruth and the girls and have great bunches of them to present, if ever they did decide to come down stairs!
A western girl, Frieda Ralston had always been accustomed to doing things for herself. So now it never occurred to her to call a "facchino" to accomplish her errand, although this Italian word for porter was one of the few words that Frieda had already acquired from her phrase book.
Besides, was the boy not standing right there by the door? Quickly she moved toward him. But at the same moment another customer must have called from the street or else some servant in the hotel frightened the child, for he slipped away and in an instant was half down the block. And Frieda followed close behind, entirely oblivious of anything except her present purpose. The boy ran lightly along and danced around a corner like a sunbeam. There, where he made the turn, a fountain stood in the center of the square that Frieda noticed particularly so there might be no danger of her getting lost. Fortunately another customer stopped the lad when, quite out of breath, Frieda finally managed to catch up with him.
She didn't know the Italian words which should be employed in purchasing violets, but fortunately the sign language was the original one with all the peoples of the world. Very soon the basket of violets transferred from the child's arm was swinging on the young girl's. When, with a smile and a "buon giorno" (good morning) at the American Signorita's prettiness and amazing wealth, the lad vanished as abruptly as he had arrived.
Frieda glowed with pleasure. The violets were so exquisite, the sky so blue, and the air so sparkling. Surely by the time of her return to the hotel her family would be ready to begin their adventures. And there, just ahead, was the fountain that she had observed so as not to make any mistake about getting back safely.
Walking on in the direction of the fountain for a moment Frieda stood admiring its beauty. But not for long of course, because Ruth and the girls must never discover her absence. Turning away from the fountain, straightway her puzzle began, for there were now half a dozen streets leading from this central square and the wanderer had no idea which one contained their hotel. Certainly Rome was very queer and unlike any other city she had ever seen before. Many of the streets seemed to twist and curve, winding in and out among the others. Nothing seemed to go straight ahead in any given direction. However, Frieda, having concluded that one of them looked a little more familiar than the others, tried it first. There was nothing within a block, however, that resembled the Hotel l'Italia and she was convinced of only having followed the boy for a single street. She had best return to the fountain and start forth again. But by the time one has followed this method of procedure three or four times without success the effect is apt to be disheartening.