Podb. (desperately anxious to please). Oh, I don't know that I care about lunch myself—much.
[Their voices die away on the water.
Culch. (musing). She might have bowed to me!... She has escaped the mosquitoes.... Ah, well, I doubt if she'll find those two particularly sympathetic companions! Now I should enjoy a day spent in that way. Why shouldn't I, as it is? I daresay MAUD will—
[Turns and sees Mr. TROTTER.
Mr. T. My darter will be along presently. She's Cologning her cheeks—they've swelled up again some. I guess you want to Cologne your cheeks—they're dreadful lumpy. I've just been on the Pi-azza again, Sir. It's curious now the want of enterprise in these Vernetians. Anyone would have expected they'd have thrown a couple or so of girder-bridges across the canal between this and the Ri-alto, and run an elevator up the Campanile—but this ain't what you might call a business city, Sir, and that's a fact. (To Miss T. as she appears.) Hello, MAUD, the ice-water cool down your face any?
Miss T. Not much. My face just made that ice-water boil over. I don't believe I'll ever have a complexion again—it's divided up among several dozen mosquitoes, who've no use for one. But it's vurry consoling to look at you, Mr. CULCHARD, and feel there's a pair of us. Now what way do you propose we should endeavor to forget our sufferings?
Culch. Well, we might spend the morning in St. Mark's—?
Miss T. The morning! Why, Poppa and I saw the entire show I inside of ten minutes, before breakfast!
Culch. Ah! (Discouraged.) What do you say to studying the Vine and Fig-tree angles and the capitals of the arcades in the Ducal Palace? I will go and fetch the Stones of Venice.
Miss T. I guess you can leave those old stones in peace. I don't feel like studying up anything this morning—it's as much as ever I can do not to scream aloud!