“Exactly. But they are bicycles only by moonlight; in broad daylight they are quite different. I’ll bring you to-morrow, and show you.”
They rowed around in desultory fashion, enjoying the evening, now and then waxing merry and talking nonsense, and again, growing pensive, as the moonlight demanded.
At last they stopped at the Piazzetta, and Mr. Fairfield took the party to the Piazza for ices.
“Oh,” cried Patty, as she saw the gay scene; banners flying, a band playing, lights sparkling; people walking about, and sitting at small tables; “oh, why didn’t we come here sooner! Moonlight and water pale beside this fairyland! Oh,—ooh!”
Patty almost danced about in glee. She loved gay sound and sight, and this was so novel and so brilliant it delighted her beyond measure.
“There, there, child,” said her father; “calm your transports. Remember this is your first night in Venice. You must learn to get used to it.”
“I will,” said Patty, rapturously. “I’d love to. Just give me time!”
Peter Homer was watching her with an intense interest in her naïve enjoyment.
“You are seeing Italy the way I want you to,” he said, as they all sat down at the little tables.