Otterburn pulled himself up promptly, and had the grace to blush under the severe eye of Victoria.
"It's battello di vapore," he said lightly, "but indeed, Mrs. Trubbles, I'm as much at sea as you are about Italian. I prefer our gude Scottish tongue."
"Glesgay," suggested Victoria, whereat Angus made a gesture of horror.
"No! no I mean the language of Jeannie Deans, of Highland Mary, and of those Jacobite songs that sprang from the leal hearts of the people."
"I once saw Rob Roy," observed Mrs. Trubbles heavily; "they were all dressed in tartans. I don't think the dress is very respectable myself."
"Then I'll never come before you in the garb of old Gaul," said Angus gaily.
"I should think it would suit you splendidly," said Miss Sheldon approvingly, glancing at his stalwart figure; "if you go to a fancy dress ball you must wear it."
Otterburn laughed, and promised to obey her commands, but at this moment the steamer drew in to the pier, and they were soon on board, steaming up to Como.
It was a beautiful morning, and as yet not too warm, the heat of the sun being tempered by the cool breeze, which, blowing from the shore, brought with it the resinous odours of fir and pine. On either side precipitous mountains towered up into the intense blue of the summer sky, the innumerable villas made pleasant spots of colour here and there, while the bosom of the lake, placidly treacherous, was of changeful hues, like the varying colours of a peacock's neck.
Plenty of tourists, in all sorts of extraordinary garbs, were on the deck of the steamer, chattering Italian, German, English, and French, according to their different nationalities, all laden with umbrellas, alpenstocks, Baedekers, luncheon-bags, marine glasses, and such-like evidences of travel. Mrs. Trubbles, having established herself in a comfortable corner, was trying to get a short sleep prior to facing the fatigues of Como, so Victoria and her attentive cavalier, being left to their own devices, began to talk about everyone and everything.