“Though, of course, you can take a drawing-room,” said Nan.
“Yes, if you’re a millionaire,” said Patty. “But this is fixed so everybody can be by themselves.”
“Would you rather have your dinner served in here?” asked her father.
“No; I’d rather go to the dining-car. I want to see more of my fellow-travellers. There may be brigands on board. I always think of Italy as peopled with brigands.”
“What are they like?” asked Nan, idly.
“Oh, they have big cowboy hats, and red silk sashes, and awful black beards, and they carry cutlasses.”
“Those are pirates,” suggested her father.
“Oh, yes, so they are. Well, my brigands carry revolvers.”
“Oh, no,” said Nan, laughing; “not revolvers; you might as well give them tomahawks. Brigands in Italy carry stilettos, of course.”
“Stilettos!” cried Patty, in amazement. “They’re what you use in embroidery work.”