"I know it, but the dime-museum visitors do not. It makes a fine impression."
She laughed and slid the dime back to her uncle.
"I'm afraid you are an impostor," she said.
"I'm afraid so, too," I confessed, laughing.
Then the comedy came to an end by the appearance of our separate orders. I threw aside the cards and proceeded to attack my dinner, for I was hungry. From time to time I caught vague fragments of conversation between the girl and her uncle.
"It's a fool idea," mumbled the old gentleman; "you will get into some trouble or other."
"That doesn't matter. It will be like a vacation,—a flash of old Rome, where I wish I were at this very moment. I am determined."
"This is what comes of reading romantic novels,"—with a kind of grumble.
"I admit there never was a particle of romance on your side of the family," the girl retorted.
"Happily. There is peace in the house where I live."