three days passed in which mr. wilder and tony industriously climbed, and in which nothing of consequence passed between constance and tony. if she happened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to an end (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored him entirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockingly deferential bow. he appeared to extract as much pleasure from the excursions as mr. wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by the way.
it was tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young american had dropped over the wall of villa rosa asking for the garden of the prince. tony and mr. wilder were off on a trip; miss hazel and constance on the point of sitting down to afternoon tea—there were no guests today—when the gardener from the hotel du lac appeared with a message from nannie hilliard. she and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was a good two days earlier than they were due. constance read the note with a clouded brow and silently passed it to miss hazel. the news was not so entirely welcome as under other circumstances it would have been. nannie hilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and constance foresaw that her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of the little comedy which was unfolding itself at villa rosa. but miss hazel, divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter by the news. guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quiet monotony of valedolmo.
“we must call on them at once and bring them back to the house.”
“i suppose we must.” constance agreed with an uncordial sigh.
fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the hotel du lac, while elizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorously scrubbing the mosaic floor.
gustavo hurried out to meet them. he was plainly in a flutter; something had occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners.
“si, signorina, in ze garden—ze two american ladies—having tea. and you are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, and you never tell me!” there was mystification and reproach in his tone.
constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side.
“i am acquainted with a number of families that i have never told you about,” she observed.
“scusi, signorina,” he stammered; and immediately, “tony, zat donk’-man, what you do wif him?”
“oh, he and my father are climbing monte brione today.”
“what time zay come home?”
“about seven o’clock, i fancy.”
“ze signora and ze signorina—zay come two days before zay are expect.” he was clearly aggrieved by the fact.
constance’s mystification increased; she saw not the slightest connection.
“i suppose, gustavo, you can find them something to eat even if they did come two days before they were expected?”
the two turned toward the arbor, but constance paused for a moment and glanced back with a shade of mischief in her eye.
“by the way, gustavo, that young man who taught the parrot english has gone?”
gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and back to her face. she understood nothing; was there ever a muddle like this?
“si, signorina,” he murmured confusedly, “ze yong man is gone.”
nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and with a start which nearly upset the tea table, came running forward to meet them; while her aunt, mrs. eustace, followed more placidly. nannie was a big wholesome outdoor girl of a purely american type. she waited for no greetings; she had news to impart.
“constance, miss hazel! i’m so glad to see you—what do you think? i’m engaged!”
miss hazel murmured incoherent congratulations, and tried not to look as shocked as she felt. in her day, no lady would have made so delicate an announcement in any such off-hand manner as this. constance received it in the spirit in which it was given.
“who’s the man?” she inquired, as she shook hands with mrs. eustace.
“you don’t know him—harry eastman, a friend of jerry’s. jerry doesn’t know it yet, and i had to confide in someone. oh, it’s no secret; harry cabled home—he wanted to get it announced so i couldn’t change my mind. you see he only had a three weeks’ vacation; he took a fast boat, landed at cherbourg, followed us the whole length of france, and caught us in lucerne just after jerry had gone. i couldn’t refuse him after he’d taken such a lot of trouble. that’s what detained us: we had expected to come a week ago. and now—” by a rapid change of expression she became tragic—“we’ve lost jerry junior!”
“lost jerry junior!” constance’s tone was interested. “what has become of him?”
“we haven’t an idea. he’s been spirited off—vanished from the earth and left no trace. really, we’re beginning to be afraid he’s been captured by brigands. that head waiter, that gustavo, knows where he is, but we can’t get a word out of him. he tells a different story every ten minutes. i looked in the register to see if by chance he’d left an address there, and what do you think i found?”
“oh!” said constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone. “what did you find?” she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion but polite curiosity.
“‘abraham lincoln’ in jerry’s hand-writing!”
“really!” constance dimpled irrepressibly. “you are sure jerry wrote it?”
“it was his writing; and i showed it to gustavo, and what do you think he said?”
constance shook her head.
“he said that jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by a hungarian nobleman who was here last week—imagine a hungarian nobleman named abraham lincoln!”
constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her head on the back and laughed.
“perhaps you can explain?” there was a touch of sharpness in nannie’s tone.
“don’t ever ask me to explain anything gustavo says; the man is not to be believed under oath.”
“but what’s become of jerry?”
“oh, he’ll turn up.” constance’s tone was comforting. “aunt hazel,” she called. miss hazel and mrs. eustace, their heads together over the tea table, were busily making up three months’ dropped news. “do you remember the young man i told you about who popped into our garden last week? that was jerry junior!”
“then you’ve seen him?” said nannie.
constance related the episode of the broken wall—the sequel she omitted. “i hadn’t seen him for six years,” she added apologetically, “and i didn’t recognize him. of course if i’d dreamed—”
nannie groaned.
“and i thought i’d planned it so beautifully!”
“planned what?”
“i suppose i might as well tell you since it’s come to nothing. we hoped—that is, you see—i’ve been so worried for fear jerry—” she took a breath and began again. “you know, constance, when it comes to getting married, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. so i determined to pick out a wife for jerry, myself, one i would like to have for a sister. i’ve done it three times and he simply wouldn’t look at them; you can’t imagine how stubborn he is. but when i found we were coming to valedolmo, i said to myself, now this is my opportunity; i will have him marry connie wilder.”
“you might have asked my permission.”
“oh, well, jerry’s a dear; next to harry you couldn’t find anyone nicer. but i knew the only way was not to let him suspect. i thought you see that you were still staying at the hotel; i didn’t know you’d taken a villa, so i planned for him to come to meet us three days before we really expected to get here. i thought in the meantime, being stranded together in a little hotel you’d surely get acquainted—jerry’s very resourceful that way—and with all this beautiful italian scenery about, and nothing to do—”
“i see!” constance’s tone was somewhat dry.
“but nothing happened as i had planned. you weren’t here, he was bored to death, and i was detained longer than i meant. we got the most pathetic letter from him the second day, saying there was no one but the head waiter to talk to, nothing but an india-rubber tree to look at, and if we didn’t come immediately, he’d do the dolomites without us. then finally, just as we were on the point of leaving, he sent a telegram saying: ‘don’t come. am climbing mountains. stay there till you hear from me.’ but being already packed, we came, and this is what we find—” she waved her hand over the empty grove.
“it serves you right; you shouldn’t deceive people.”
“it was for jerry’s good—and yours too. but what shall we do? he doesn’t know we’re here and he has left no address.”
“come out to the villa and visit us till he comes to search for you.”
constance could hear her aunt delivering the same invitation to mrs. eustace, and she perforce repeated it, though with the inward hope that it would be declined. she had no wish that tony and her father should return from their trip to find a family party assembled on the terrace. the adventure was not to end with any such tame climax as that. to her relief they did decline, at least for the night; they could make no definite plans until they had heard from jerry. constance rose upon this assurance and precipitated their leave-takings; she did not wish her aunt to press them to change their minds.
“good-bye, mrs. eustace, good-bye, nannie; we’ll be around tonight to take you sailing—provided there’s any breeze.”
she nodded and dragged her aunt off; but as they were entering the arbor a plan for further complicating matters popped into her head, and she turned back to call:
“you are coming to the villa tomorrow, remember, whether jerry junior turns up or not. i’ll write a note and invite him too—gustavo can give it to him when he comes, and you needn’t bother any more about him.”
they found gustavo hovering omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering for news; constance summoned him to her side.
“gustavo, i am going to send you a note tonight for mr. jerymn hilliard. you will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?”
“meestair jayreem ailyar?” gustavo stared.
“yes, the brother of the signorina who came today. he is expected tomorrow or perhaps the day after.”
“scusi, signorina. you—you acquaint wif him?”
“yes, certainly. i have known him for six years. don’t forget to deliver the note; it’s important.”
they raised their parasols and departed, while gustavo stood in the gateway bowing. the motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts were laboring elsewhere.
