He walked over to where his weeping wife sat, laid his hand on her head, and stooping, kissed her brow. The girls laughed again.
"Be quiet, all of you! Do you think that only smooth brows and bright cheeks ought to be kissed? Be good loving wives, and I promise you your husbands will be blind to your wrinkles. I could not be happy without the sight of this well-known face; it is the record of happiness for me. I wish you all our luck, my dears!"
All simpered or laughed, and Martina's brow smoothed.
"Now I see that I can still make you smile at misfortune," continued the Doctor, "I will tell you something comforting. As I came along, I met Paolo, the olive-merchant, who offered me a franc more a sack than he did to any one else, because he knows our olives are of a superior quality."
Signora Martina smiled rather a grim smile at this compliment to her olives.
"But I told him," went on Doctor Morani, with a certain look of pride, "that we were not going to sell; we intended to make oil for ourselves. And so we will, Martina, with the olives that have been blown down, hoping the best for those still on the trees. Now let us talk of something more pleasant. Pasqualina, suppose you tell us a story; you are our best hand, I believe."
"I am sure, Signor Dottore, I have nothing worth your listening to," answered Pasqualina, blushing.
"Tell us about the ghost your uncle saw," suggested another of the girls.
"A ghost!" cried the Doctor. "Any one here seen a ghost? I wish I could have such a chance! What was it like?"
"I did not see it myself; I do but believe what my uncle told me," said Pasqualina, with a gravity that had a shade of resentment.