“You?”
She hastened to correct the impression she had made.
“Why, Gaspare, you are our Providence!”
“Va bene, but—”
“I only meant that I am sure Madre wouldn’t agree with you. She thinks me quite a child. I know that.”
She spoke with conviction, nodding her head.
“Perhaps the Signora does not see.”
Vere smiled.
“Gaspare, I believe you are horribly sharp,” she said. “I often think you notice everything. You are birbante, I am half afraid of you.”
Gaspare smiled, too. He had quite recovered his good humor. It pleased him mightily to fancy he had seen what the Padrona had not seen.