“It’s unusual in Italy, I’m sure, and I never saw one like it in England; but it’s exactly like the parlour-cars we have in America.”
“Is it? Well, I like it a lot better, like this, where we’re all in one room, and can see our fellow passengers, than to be shut up in those little compartments and only see our own party.”
“Yes,” said Patty, doubtfully; “but the other way is more cosy. I’ve no desire to see my fellow travellers, have you?”
“Yes; I like to look at them, and wonder what they’re like. For instance, see those two young Italian men, over there. I’m sure they’re nobles, counts probably. Aren’t they handsome?”
“Flo Carrington, you stop looking at handsome young Italians or I’ll call Snippy’s attention to you.”
“Oh, they don’t know I’m looking at them.”
“Don’t they, indeed! Well, they do, and you must stop it.”
“I have stopped,” said Flo, looking out of the window. “But aren’t they stunning?”
They were handsome young fellows, and had an air of dignity such as might well befit an Italian noble. Flo and Patty demurely refrained from glancing at them, save for a furtive glance now and then, but Flo declared she must make a sketch of them. She undertook it, but the train jolted too much to make drawing a pleasure, so she abandoned the project. Soon the guard came through, asking for those who wished to lunch in the dining-car, and tickets were given for seats at table.