“Thank you for a subtle compliment,” said Patty, comfortably arranging herself on the red-cushioned seat. “You may sit beside me for that.”
“Thank you. My effort was not in vain, then. Virtue, like Venice, is its own reward.”
The fleet started and made a delightful pre-arranged trip along the Grand Canal, and through many of the most picturesque smaller canals. Their gondolas kept together as much as possible, and gay chat was tossed across from one to another. Returning, they stopped at the Piazza, and sat for a time, or strolled about, listening to the music of the band. Then all walked the short distance to the Royal Danieli, and gathered in one of the smaller ballrooms, which Mr. Fairfield had engaged.
Some musicians played, and a delightful dance ensued. Patty always enjoyed dancing, and treated quite impartially the many would-be partners who begged to be favoured.
“Isn’t she a wonder?” said Caddy Oram to Peter Homer, as Patty waltzed by with Floyd.
“The most sunshiny girl I have ever seen,” said Peter, gazing at graceful Patty, who smiled back at him over Floyd’s shoulder.
The dance ended all too soon, and then the guests were ushered to the dining-room, where a supper was spread on small tables.
“It would be a lovely party,” said Patty, “if it weren’t to celebrate our last evening in Venice. That makes me sad.”
“It makes me heart-broken,” said Floyd; “Venice without you is as dust and ashes. My soul is as a crushed cauliflower! Alack-a-day, and wae’s me!”