So Patty went back to bed and slept until the sun shone high over the Arno, in place of the moon.
The weeks in Florence passed rapidly, it seemed to the two girls. Each day Patty grew to love the beautiful city more.
“It goes along so smoothly,” she said to Nan, one day. “In Rome we were always flying around after some excitement, but Florence days just flow by, all exactly alike.”
“Why, Patty, I think our days are varied a great deal,” replied Nan, who was tying her veil, and was devoting most of her attention to that.
“No, they’re not. We always go to picture galleries in the morning. And shopping or for a drive in the gardens in the afternoon, and then dinner takes up most of the evening. But I like it; I’m not complaining at all. And I’m learning heaps about pictures. I didn’t know I could learn so much just by looking at them. Why, some of my favourites, I almost feel as if I had painted myself.”
“It must be fine to have such a good opinion of yourself,” laughed Nan. “Where are you going this morning?”
“Oh, Snippy’s laid aside with a headache, and as you and dad are going off on an excursion, he said Flo and I might go out with Carlo.”
“Well, have a good time. We’ll be back by tea time, so be in the palm room by five. Some people are coming.”
Nan ran away to go off on a day’s jaunt with her husband, and Flo and Patty put on their hats to go for a drive with Carlo.
This very useful Italian citizen was a well-trained guide, who had been recommended to Mr. Fairfield by an old friend. Carlo was experienced in all styles of sight-seeing, and moreover was trusty and reliable in every way. So Mr. Fairfield allowed Flo and Patty to go with him to galleries and museums, and Carlo proved a most satisfactory cicerone and chaperon. To-day the cab came to the door and Carlo assisted the two girls into it.