“It’s lovely,” said Patty, with a little sigh, as she finished her ice; “I wouldn’t live here for anything, but I do enjoy seeing it all.”
“So do I,” said Flo. “But I’m ’most sure I’ll like Venice better than Florence. Shan’t you, Patty?”
“Yes, I expect so. I like Rome better, too; but still, Florence is a lovely city. You ought to love it best, Flo, as it’s named after you.”
“Oh, it’s pretty enough, but I’ve always been just crazy to see Venice.”
The girls chatted away, and Mr. Fairfield smoked a cigar, and then said they must go back to the hotel and to bed, as they had a busy day ahead of them, with their party first, and the journey to Venice after.
“And I thank you, gracious ladies,” he added, “for giving me a most pleasant evening.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” said Patty; “I’ve had lots of fun, watching the people and noticing their funny ways.”
On the way home they stopped at one or two shops that were still open, and bought a few more of the delightful bits of bric-à-brac in which Florence abounds.
“I’m simply overburdened now, with little boxes, and carved things, and mosaics, and plaster casts, but I must have this head of Dante.”
“I’ve seven heads of Dante already, so I won’t get one,” said Flo.