Part 3 (2/2)
”Oh, is that it? Well, any way, I like him!”
”If that's the case, perhaps you could make better headway with him than I.”
”But I don't speak Italian.”
”Perhaps you speak French.”
”I know my conjugations,” was the modest admission.
”And I'm sure he would be enchanted to hear them,” Mr. Grey laughed, as the orchestra struck into the familiar music of the Lancers, causing him to beat a retreat into the smoking-room.
And while Blythe danced gaily and heartily with a boy somewhat younger than herself, and not quite as tall, her little protegee fell into a deep sleep. And presently, the dance being over, the faithful Gustav carried her down to Blythe's stateroom, where she was snugly tucked away in the gently rocking cradle of the lower berth.
As for Blythe, thus relegated to the upper berth, she entered promptly into an agreeable dreamland, where she found herself speaking Italian fluently, and where she discovered, to her extreme satisfaction, that the Queen of Italy was her bosom friend!
CHAPTER III
A NEW DAWN
It was pretty to see the little Signorina revive under the favouring influences of prosperity; and indeed the soft airs of the southern seas were never sweeter nor more caressing than those which came to console our voyagers for their short-lived storm.
Life was full of interest and excitement for the little girl. The heavy la.s.situde of her steerage days had fallen from her, and already that first morning a delicate glow of returning vigour touched the little cheek.
”She's picking up, isn't she?” Mr. DeWitt remarked, as he joined Blythe and the child at the head of the steerage gangway, where the little one was throwing enthusiastic kisses and musical Italian phrases down upon the hardly less radiant Giuditta.
”Oh, yes!” was the confident reply. ”She's a different child since her salt.w.a.ter bath and her big bowl of oatmeal. Mamma says she really has a splendid physique, only she was smothering down there in the steerage.”
Then Mr. DeWitt stooped and, lifting the child, set her on the railing, where she could get a better view of her faithful friend below.
”There! How do you like that?” he inquired.
Upon which the little girl, finding herself unexpectedly on a level with Blythe's face, put up her tiny hand and stroked her cheek.
”Like-a Signorina,” she remarked with apparent irrelevance.
”Oh! You do, do you? Well, she's a nice girl.”
”Nice-a girl-a,” the child repeated, adding a vowel, Italian fas.h.i.+on, to each word.
Then, with an appreciative look into the pleasant, whiskered countenance, whose owner was holding her so securely on her precarious perch, she pressed her little hand gently against his waistcoat, and gravely remarked, ”Nice-a girl-a, _anche il Signore_!”
”So! I'm a nice girl too, am I?” the old gentleman replied, much elated with the compliment.
And Giuditta, down below, perceiving that her Signorina was making new conquests, s.n.a.t.c.hed her bright handkerchief from her head, and waved it gaily; whereupon a score of the steerage pa.s.sengers, seized with her enthusiasm, waved their hats and handkerchiefs and shouted; ”_Buon' viaggio, Signorina! Buon' viaggio_!”
And the little recipient of this ovation became so excited that she almost jumped out of the detaining arms of Mr. DeWitt, who, being of a cautious disposition, made haste to set her down again; upon which they all walked aft, under the big awning.
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