“And partly what else?” she asked.
“Partly the grandeur of the monuments themselves. If you hadn’t been affected at the sight of the Coliseum I should have packed you back to New York by the first boat.”
“And I should have deserved to go,” said Patty, decidedly. “I give you both fair warning,—the first thing I do every morning while I’m in Rome is to go straight to the Coliseum and hug it. After that I’ll go to see the other sights.”
“Can you reach all the way around it?” asked Nan, smiling.
“Don’t be too literal,” said Patty, smiling back. “I shall only hug it figuratively, but, oh, I do love it! The Venus of Milo has a rival in my affections. No, not a rival, exactly, for they’re too different to be compared. But they’re both my favourite statues.”
“That’s one way to put it,” laughed her father. “But here we are on the top of the Pincian Hill. Will you get out and have some cakes and ices?”
They did so, and Patty found it delightful to sit at one of the little tables under the trees, and have a Roman afternoon tea. There were a great many people about, some of whom looked like Americans, and Patty noticed two or three who belonged in their own hotel.
“Shall we get acquainted with any of the people at the hotel?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Nan answered. “There are some people from Philadelphia there, whom I know slightly. I think I’ll look them up to-morrow.”
“Oh, of course we’ll make acquaintances, sooner or later,” said Mr. Fairfield.