uncle tom curtis returned to pittsburgh the next day, leaving jean and beacon to stay with uncle bob until october. it was now april, and on the common and public garden the trees, which were beginning to break into delicate foliage, were invaded by scores of scampering gray squirrels so tame that they would eat out of one's hand. often in the morning when jean walked to the office with uncle bob she would stop to feed these hungry little creatures and also the flocks of friendly pigeons clustering along the walks. of course beacon had to be left behind when the family went on such strolls, for he was far too fond of chasing everything he saw; afternoon was his gala time. then, while jean flew on roller skates along the broad asphalt esplanade bordering the charles river, beacon would race up and down dodging the skaters, playing with the children, and nearly tripping up the throngs of nurse-maids who trundled their wee charges in the bright sunshine.
how quickly the days passed!
already the beacon hill house had become a real home, and uncle bob dearer each moment she stayed in it.
"you know, uncle bob, you would be really perfect if only you liked dolls and could tie hair ribbons," said jean teasingly.
uncle bob shook his head ruefully.
"i never could care for sawdust people," said he, "when there were so many interesting real ones in the world. as for the hair ribbons, perhaps i might learn to tie those in time, although i doubt if i ever could make as perky a bow as hannah does. i like the perk but i haven't the faintest idea how to get it."
jean laughed.
she and her uncle had many a joke together.
"he is better at a joke than uncle tom is," confided jean to hannah.
in fact uncle bob joked so much that it was hard to tell when he was serious, and so one day when he came into the library where jean was and swept all the dolls on the couch over into the corner, laughingly demanding how jean would like to go to europe, she paid no attention to him.
"seems to me you are not a very enthusiastic or grateful young woman," said he at last tweaking a curl that hung low on her cheek. "here i am inviting you to tour the world with me and all you say is: 'i'll think about it!' how's that for gratitude?"
"if you had any intention of taking me i might be more grateful," jean answered, fastening the gown of the doll she was dressing, and holding her at arm's length to enjoy the effect.
"but i am entirely serious, my young friend; i never was more so. i am imploring you to go to italy, for go i must, and i have no mind to leave you behind."
"to italy? to real italy, uncle bob? do you mean it?"
"i surely do, dear child. behold me, solemn as an owl. ah, now you begin to listen. it would serve you right if i should refuse to take such an ungrateful lady. what say you? should you like to go?"
"like it! i'd love it! i've never been on an ocean trip in all my life."
"you may not care to go on another after you've been on this one," chuckled uncle bob. "however, the fact remains that we are going. i have charge of decorating a very beautiful house in the suburbs and i am going over to florence to order some marble stairways and fireplaces. that is my excuse. incidentally we can make a pleasant trip out of it and see many places besides italy."
"could we go to venice?" burst out jean. "venice is in italy, isn't it? i'd like of all places to see venice with its water streets and its gondolas."
"yes, honey, you certainly shall see venice and ride in all the gondolas you like."
"splendid!" cried jean, clapping her hands. "when can we start? let's go right away," and springing up from the couch she whirled toward the door.
"slowly, slowly!" protested uncle bob. "come back here to me a moment, you flyaway. many things must be decided before we sail for italy. in the first place there is hannah; what shall we do with her?"
"oh, hannah must come along with us," jean answered. "she'll have to. we never could think of going to europe and leaving good old hannah, who is so kind to both of us, now could we? besides, she has to fix my hair every morning, and mend my clothes. i'd be coming to pieces all over europe if hannah didn't go."
"well, then, that settles it. hannah goes. i never could consent to escort a young lady who might drop to pieces at any moment and strew her belongings all along the route from italy to scotland. now about esther, the waitress. she wants to go west and visit her brother; this will be just the chance. suppose we tie a long string to her and let her go. then we come to beacon."
"beacon would go with us, of course," jean replied quickly. "you may be sure i'd never leave beacon at home. i'd rather not go myself."
"but, girlie, we couldn't very well——"
"why, uncle bob! you don't mean to say you thought of leaving beacon! if you did i simply sha'n't go. that's all there is about it. i shall never, never be parted from beacon—never!"
"listen, dear. beacon wouldn't enjoy going. we could not get for him the food to which he is accustomed, nor would they admit him to the picture galleries which we shall visit. i doubt if he would even care for the gondolas."
"no, i'm sure he would not like the gondolas," admitted jean smiling faintly, "because hannah and i tried him on the swan-boats in the public garden and he hated them; he just barked and snarled all the time, and wriggled about so in my arms that he nearly went overboard and carried me with him."
"that's just it! that is precisely the way he would feel on shipboard. now my plan is this. we'll send him out to pittsburgh for uncle tom to take care of until you get back. then when you go out there in october your doggie will be nicely settled in his other home and waiting for you. in fact," confessed uncle bob a little sheepishly, "i wrote uncle tom and asked how he would feel about adding a puppy to his household. this is his answer:
"'european plan excellent. send beacon. next best thing to jean.'"
"dear uncle tom! he is awfully good, isn't he?"
"yes, he is. i fancy he will decide so, too, when he finds all his sofa cushions torn, and his shoes chewed up," chuckled uncle bob. "let him take his turn at it."
beacon provided for, the remainder of the european plan seemed simple enough. to be sure there was hannah, who at first flatly refused to be separated from the golden dome of the state house or from the boston "evening transcript." at last, however, after much persuasion she consented to suffer these deprivations for the common good, and brought herself to purchasing the necessary clothing for jean and herself. to these she added french, german and italian dictionaries because, as she explained: "we might get lost or parted from your uncle bob somehow, and you never can tell what will happen in those heathen countries where the poor people cannot speak english. how men and women can live in places where they talk those dreadful languages and use that queer money when they might come over here to boston——"
"that's right, hannah," agreed uncle bob, playfully urging her on.
"and all that strange weather! why, i read only the other day that in italy they just have summer all the year round. so foolish! they never get any snow at all—think of that! it is such a slack and lazy way to do always to be wearing one set of things and never getting out any winter flannels. i shouldn't know where i was if i didn't chalk off the seasons by my house cleaning, preserving, getting out the furs, and putting them away. i just know those italians live without any system. how could they be expected to have any when it's summer all the time?"
she sniffed scornfully.
in fact hannah sniffed a good many times before the great ship which was carrying them to naples docked beneath the shadow of vesuvius. the staterooms she termed little coops, and the berths nothing more nor less than shelves.
"when i go to bed, mr. bob, i feel exactly as if i was a sheet put away in the linen closet."
uncle bob and jean both laughed. hannah kept them royally entertained.
"as for these clocks that strike every hour but the right one—i've nothing to say," she went on. "if the captain prefers to ring two when he means nine, well and good. he runs the ship and it is his lookout, although i will say it is hard on the rest of us. he explains that it has something to do with the watch—whose watch i don't know; his own, i suppose. evidently he has some queer way of telling time, some theory he is free to work out when he is here in the middle of the ocean away from land. be glad, jean, that you learned to tell time properly, and that you live with people who are content to use the old method and do not set themselves up to invent a system that is a puzzle to every one but themselves."
thus hannah measured every new experience, applying to it the beacon hill standard. if it conformed to what was done in boston it was quite correct, but if it varied in the least it was condemned as "ridiculous."
to jean, on the contrary, the voyage was one of unending delight. she proved herself an excellent sailor, and was never tired of playing shuffle-board on the deck or pacing to and fro with uncle bob in the fresh breeze. and when at last gibraltar was reached and she actually beheld the coasts of spain, africa and italy, her wonder grew until she said she had to pinch herself to be sure she was alive and not dreaming. it was a journey of marvels.
"i feel exactly as if i had gone down the rabbit hole with alice," she exclaimed, squeezing uncle bob's arm as they were disembarking at naples.
uncle bob was in such a hurry to reach florence that the travelers did not stay long in naples—only long enough to visit the famous aquarium with its myriad of strange sea creatures, and to take a flying glimpse of the museum. it was at the latter place that jean saw the celebrated naples vase which, uncle bob told her, was found over a hundred years ago in a tomb in pompeii.
"it probably was made by very skilful grecian workmen about the year 70 a.d. think how wonderful it is that there were artists living many thousands of years ago who knew how to make such a beautiful thing. look closely at it, jean, for it is one of the art treasures of the world."
jean looked.
the vase, scarcely more than a foot in height, was of dark blue glass, and had upon it in white a design of delicate grecian figures.
"it was first made with a coating of white opaque glass entirely over the blue," uncle bob explained. "then the artist with extreme care and some sharp instrument cut this beautiful picture of the harvest gatherers. notice, too, how the pattern is repeated on the handles. it is a pity the base or foot of the vase is missing; it was probably of gold and was doubtless stolen at some time. there is now made in england a kind of pottery called wedgwood, which has much this same effect although, of course, it is far less perfectly fashioned."
"i'm glad i do not have this thing to dust," hannah observed grimly.
"well you may be, hannah," uncle bob retorted, "for the vase is worth thousands of dollars. there are in the world several very famous glass vases—this is one; the auldjo vase, also from pompeii and now in the british museum, is another; and the portland vase, which is there too, makes a third. the design on the portland vase is considered even finer than this. we shall see it and i will tell you its history when we get to london."
what weren't they to see!
jean's head was a jumble of fairy anticipations—of crown jewels, palaces, gondolas, famous pictures, and scenes of undreamed of beauty. the tower of london merged itself with visions of napoleon's tomb, while in and out of her mind flitted fragmentary pictures of notre dame and the vatican. everything seemed so old!
"at first i stood with my mouth open when i was told things were built, or dug up, or made hundreds of years ago," laughed jean. "but now i find i am growing fussy, and unless a thing is thousands of years old it scarcely seems worth looking at. how horribly new they must think us in america! even bunker hill and the state house, hannah, are very modern," she added teasingly.
"now, jean, if this trip to europe is going to make you turn up your nose at your native land the best thing you can do is to face round and go straight back home," was hannah's severe reply.
"there, there, you dear old thing! don't worry. i love my america, but you should have learned by this time that i never can resist seeing you bristle. but even you, bigoted as you are, must admit that a great deal seems to have happened in the world before we on the other side of the sea were alive at all."
"much of it," observed hannah with dignity, "was nothing to be proud of, and it's as well they kept it on this side of the ocean."
from naples uncle bob whirled his bewildered charges to rome and then to florence, and while he was busy transacting business hannah and jean were put in charge of a courier and taken to see so many pictures and churches that hannah begged never to be shown another masterpiece or another spire so long as she lived.
"bless your heart, mr. bob, if you were to lean the sistine madonna right up against the table in my room i wouldn't turn my head to look at it. and as for churches—i wouldn't accept westminster abbey as a gift. tell 'em not to urge it on me, for i wouldn't take it even if i could get it through the customs free of duty. the things i'd like best at this very minute would be an east wind and some baked beans."
but when they reached venice and saw their first gondola even hannah was forced to admit that it far outshone the boston swan-boats. the travelers arrived late at night, and on passing through the station came out on a broad platform where, instead of cabs and cars, numberless gondolas floated, illumined by twinkling lights.
"oh!" murmured jean in a hushed whisper.
it was indeed a beautiful sight. before them a stretch of water flooded by the full moon wandered off into a multitude of tiny canals shut in on either side by murky dwellings of stone or brick. in and out of these dim little avenues plied boatmen who shouted a warning in shrill italian as they rounded the turns.
uncle bob lost no time in summoning a gondolier, and soon the party were being swept along by the sturdy strokes of a swarthy venetian who, hannah declared in an undertone, looked like nothing so much as a full-fledged brigand. she could not be persuaded to take her hand off her luggage, but sat clutching it with all her strength until she arrived at the hotel. jean, on the other hand, was too excited by the novelty of the scene to know or care what the boatman looked like. her one fear seemed to be that if she went to bed and allowed herself to fall asleep the wonderful water streets might vanish forever. it took all uncle bob's pleading to make her close her eyes. at last, however, she did and when she opened them in the morning her very first thought was to fly to the window and see if the canals were still there.
no, it was not a dream!
there were the moving gondolas, the narrow water streets, and the glorious dome of del salute directly opposite across the sparkling expanse of the grand canal.
jean suppressed a cry of delight, and scurried into her clothes.
"now, uncle bob," she announced at breakfast, "i want to go straight out in a gondola the minute i have finished my chocolate and rolls. i think i am pretty good to stop for them at all. i want to go and stay until noon. may i?"
"well, let me think a second, little girl," replied uncle bob. "i am afraid i must run over to the bankers' directly after breakfast, so i won't be able to start right away; i can, however, take you later." then as he saw jean's face fall he added, "you and hannah may go early if you like and come back for me at eleven. how will that do?"
"it will do beautifully only i wish you could be with us. how shall we know how to get a boatman, or tell him where to take us? i am sure i couldn't, and hannah's italian is not very good, although," with a mischievous smile, "i suppose she could use her dictionary."
"i will arrange everything with a gondolier before i leave for the bankers'," uncle bob answered. "now i must be running along. suppose the gondola is here at half-past nine."
"the earlier the better," cried jean.
promptly at the hour set the gondola glided up to the steps of the grand canal hotel where jean and hannah were waiting. it was an unusually beautiful gondola, with scarlet curtains and a gilded prow carved in the shape of a woman's head.
jean sprang forward, all eagerness, her eyes on the magic apparition. then suddenly her foot slipped on the slime left by the tide on the marble step, and she would have fallen into the water had not a young boy, with rare presence of mind, leaped forward and caught her.
another moment and hannah, white with fright, had the girl in her arms.
"oh, my dear child!" she wailed. "my precious lamb! thank goodness, you are safe. think if you'd been drowned before you had had a chance to see venice at all! but you are quite safe now, honey. don't be frightened. young man," and she turned to the boy, "that was a good deed of yours. what is your name? but there—how silly to be asking him when he can't understand a word i'm saying. i forgot no one could understand anything in this queer, upside-down town where the streets are water when they ought to be land."
to her utter astonishment, however, the boy answered in english, which, although slightly broken, was perfectly intelligible.
"my name is giusippe cicone."
"say it again," demanded hannah. "say it more slowly."
"giusippe cicone."
"giusippe," echoed hannah, "giusippe cicone. there! giusippe cicone. i got it better that time. giusippe cicone. now i have it! well, master giusippe cicone, it was very good of you to save this little lady from a ducking in your canal which, if i may be permitted to say so, is not as clean as it might be. we are very much obliged to you, and here is some money to pay you for being so quick."
the boy shook his head.
"i could not take money for saving the señorita from the water," protested he proudly. "i was glad to do it. i could not take pay."
"well, i thank you very much," jean ventured shyly.
he helped hannah and the girl into the waiting gondola and then stood on the steps shading his eyes with his brown hand as the gondolier made his way to the oar.
"perhaps you can tell us where we can find you if we should want to see you again," called hannah as the distance between them widened.
"certainly. i am at murano." he pointed across the lagoon to a distant island.
"murano?"
"yes, i work there. every one knows me at the glass works."
he waved his hand and was soon lost to sight.
"i do wonder who he is," speculated jean, who had now quite recovered from her fright and could smile at the memory of the episode. "and how strange that he understood english!"
"i don't call it strange," hannah responded. "english is the only sensible language, and probably this boy realizes it. i think it speaks well for his discrimination."
"anyway, he was a gentleman not to take the money; and yet he looked poor," reflected the girl.
"one may be a gentleman despite poverty, thank goodness," hannah said. "your uncle will probably insist upon hunting him up and thanking him. i can't see, jean, how you came to slip that way. wasn't the boatman holding on to you?" and for the tenth time every detail of the disaster had to be gone over.
"well, all i can say is that if anything had happened to you i never should have dared show my face to your uncle bob. and think of your uncle tom at home—he would have things to say! they would both blame me even if it was not my fault," sighed hannah.
"of course it wasn't your fault. how could you possibly be to blame if i was so heedless as to rush ahead without looking where i was going? i'm always doing that, hannah; you know i am. i am always in such a hurry to enjoy the things i like that i never can wait a moment. this is a good lesson for me. i just hope the salt water won't spoil my new tan shoes. come! let us talk of something pleasanter. isn't it too perfectly lovely out here? look back at the shore and see how st. mark's and the campanile stand out. i know those already, because i remember seeing pictures of them in my geography. oh, i am so glad we are here! i am sure we shall have a wonderful time in venice even if i did begin by nearly drowning myself in the canal."
"it is all very well to laugh about it now," hannah answered solemnly, "but it was no laughing matter when it happened—no laughing matter!"
