[XII.]
VENICE
It was late at night when Mollie and her friends arrived at Venice and the Unwiseman, sleeping peacefully as he was in the cavernous depths of his carpet-bag, did not get his first glimpse of the lovely city of the waters until he waked up the next morning. Unfortunately—or possibly it was a fortunate circumstance—the old gentleman had heard of Venice only in a very vague way before, and had no more idea of its peculiarities than he had of those of Waycross Junction, Georgia, or any other place he had never seen. Consequently his first sight of Venice filled him with a tremendous deal of excitement. Emerging from his carpet-bag in the cloak-room of the hotel he walked out upon the front steps of the building which descended into the Grand Canal, the broad waterway that runs its serpentine length through this historic city of the Adriatic.
"'Gee Whittaker!'" he cried, as the great avenue of water met his gaze. "There's been a flood! Hi there—inside—the water main has busted, and the whole town's afloat. Wake up everybody and save yourselves!"
He turned and rushed madly up the hotel stairs to the floor upon which his friends' rooms were located, calling lustily all the way:
"Get up everybody—the reservoy's busted; the dam's loose. To the boats! Mollie—Whistlebinkie—Mister and Mrs. Mollie—get up or you'll be washed away—the whole place is flooded. You haven't a minute to spare."
"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, opening her door as she recognized the Unwiseman's voice out in the hallway. "What are you scaring everybody to death for?"
"Get out your life preservers—quick before it is too late," gasped the Unwiseman. "There's a tidal wave galloping up and down the street, and we'll be drowned. To the roof! All hands to starboard and man the boats."
"What are you talking about?" said Mollie.