“But I am in Venice!”
“No, ma’am, you are in Milan.”
“What?” cried Patty, aghast at his words.
“This is Milan, ma’am.”
“Are you,—are you quite sure?” Even in her bewildered horror, Patty realised the ludicrousness of this question.
“Perceive the signboard, ma’am.” The man pointed to large-lettered sign, which unmistakably announced Milano.
“Flo,” said Patty, in a scared, little voice, “I don’t know what it means, but it seems we are in Milan instead of in Venice.”
“Oh, Patty!” gasped Flo, as she clung desperately to Patty’s arm; “what shall we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Patty, slowly; “it’s a pretty serious thing for two girls to be alone in the middle of the night in a strange Italian city.
“But I took the train for Venice,” said Patty to the man, and her tone had in it a faint tinge of accusation, though of course the man was in no way responsible.