"And then?" mischievously.
"And then home again, of course. It's as plain as the nose on your face, Patsy Doyle, and a good bit straighter."
That made her laugh again, and the strange Italian, who was listening, growled a word in his native language. He wasn't at all a pleasant companion, but for that very reason Patsy determined to make him talk and "be sociable." By degrees he seemed to appreciate her attention, and always brightened when she came to sit beside him.
"You'll have to tell me your name, you know," she said to him; "because I can't be calling you 'Sir' every minute."
He glanced nervously around. Then he answered, slowly:
"I am called Valdi—Victor Valdi."
"Oh, that's a pretty name, Mr. Valdi—or should I say Signor?"
"You should."
"Do I pronounce it right?"