‘And if yer honour will put his hand in his pocket and tempt us with a couple of crown-pieces, there’s no saying what we wouldn’t do,’ said a little bandy old fellow, who was washing his face at the pump.
‘And are crown-pieces so plentiful with you down here that you can earn them so easily?’ said Atlee, with a sneer.
‘Be me sowl, yer honour, it’s thinking that they’re not so aisy to come at, makes us a bit lazy this evening!’ said a ragged fellow, with a grin, which was quickly followed by a hearty laugh from those around him.
Something that sounded like a titter above his head made Atlee look up, and there, exactly over where he stood, was Nina, leaning over a little stone balcony in front of a window, an amused witness of the scene beneath.
‘I have two words for yourself,’ cried he to her in Italian. ‘Will you come down to the garden for one moment?’
‘Cannot the two words be said in the drawing-room?’ asked she, half saucily, in the same language.
‘No, they cannot be said in the drawing-room,’ continued he sternly.
‘It’s dropping rain. I should get wet.’
‘Take an umbrella, then, but come. Mind me, Signora Nina, I am the bearer of a message for you.’
There was something almost disdainful in the toss of her head as she heard these words, and she hastily retired from the balcony and entered the room.