"How these tourists do hold on to their guide-books," said Victoria disdainfully, "one would think they'd be quite lost without them."
"Very likely they would," replied Otterburn, pulling his straw hat over his eyes with a yawn, "they have a prejudice against looking at any place without knowing all about it."
"It's such a trouble reading up all about cathedrals and pictures--I like to ask questions."
"Oh! guides!"
"No! no I--they're worse than Baedeker. They never stop talking, and their information is so scrappy."
"Extensive but not accurate," suggested Macjean with a laugh.
"I'm not sure even about the extensive part," observed Victoria gaily; "when I was in England I went to a cathedral--I won't mention names--and the verger had a cut-and-dried story about the place. When he finished his little narrative I began to ask him questions. You've no idea how exasperated he became, because he knew absolutely nothing, and at last said, in despair, 'Why, Miss, you must be an American.' I told him I was an Australian, so he promptly replied, 'Well, Miss, that's quite as bad--for questions.'"
As in duty bound, Angus laughed at this story, which was simple enough in itself, but the telling of it seemed to establish a more friendly feeling between them, of which this artful young man took full advantage, and began to point out the various objects of interest on the lake.
"You see that villa over there," he said in an official tone, "it belongs to the Visconti lot. They used to be Dukes of Milan, you know."
"Dear me! and why aren't they Dukes of Milan now?"