ANOTHER half hour went by, and Patty, looking at her watch, said, “Why, it’s after nine o’clock! We will now eat our grapes. I meant to offer some to that dear old lady, but she preferred violets, so I had no chance.”

The girls ate the grapes, and though they didn’t refer to it, each secretly wished Mr. Fairfield would come back.

“It does seem queer,” said Patty at last, “for father to stay so long away. But of course, he thinks the Orsinis are still with us, and if they were, I wouldn’t give a thought to father’s long absence.”

“He’s probably fallen asleep,” said Flo.

“Of course he has! That’s just it! His dinner and his smoke made him sleepy, and he dropped off before he knew it. Well, if he doesn’t wake up before, he’ll have to come and get us when we get to Venice.”

“Maybe he’ll sleep right through.”

“Well, when we get to Venice, I’ll get out then, and hunt up the Royal Danieli men, and they’ll find him.”

“How capable you Americans are! I don’t mind confessing that I’m a bit scared.”

“Pshaw! what is there to be scared at? We’re as safe here as we can be. Nothing can harm us. The guards would look after us if there were any danger, but there isn’t any.”

“No, I suppose not,” Flo agreed, but she spoke hesitatingly.

As for Patty, she was not really alarmed, but she couldn’t helping wishing her father would come back. It would be all well enough in America or even in England; but alone on an Italian railway, where she couldn’t make herself understood, and in a country where young ladies are allowed little or no unconventionality, she had secret misgivings. But it would never do to let Flo know she was troubled, so she said, gaily:

“Well, if daddy can have a nice long nap, so can I. Come, let’s fold up our coats for pillows and drop asleep ourselves.”

“Oh, no, Patty! It might be dangerous.”

“Pooh, it’s no more dangerous asleep than awake. I’m going to try it anyhow.”

Patty made Flo comfortable first. She opened her dressing case, and taking out the Cologne water, bathed Flo’s temples refreshingly. Then she folded her coat, and tucked it beneath her head, and said quietly:

“You needn’t sleep, dear, if you don’t want to, but you’ll rest better that way.”

Flo gave her a grateful smile and closed her eyes in order to rest them.

She was tired with the exertions of the day, and the long railway journey, and Patty was not surprised when, after a very few moments, she saw that Flo was, without doubt, fast asleep.

As for Patty Fairfield, she had no intention of going to sleep, and couldn’t have done so, anyway. She felt the responsibility of the situation, for Snippy had left Flo in Mr. Fairfield’s charge, and in his absence loyal Patty felt herself his representative. She sat upright, staring out of the window into the darkness or watching the doorway, where she expected every moment to see her father enter.

Bereft of even Flo’s chatter, she grew more and more lonely, and only as the hands of her watch neared ten o’clock did she begin to brighten up, on the knowledge that they must now soon reach Venice.

“But these trains are always late,” she thought, “so I shan’t hope to get there before half-past ten.”

And then the time dragged along slowly. Half-past ten came, and no sign of her father.

She had drawn the window curtain, but she pushed it aside, hoping to see the lights of Venice. Only a rushing darkness greeted her eyes. She looked at Flo. It seemed a pity to wake her, and yet Patty felt she couldn’t endure this loneliness and suspense much longer. She knew the train should get in at ten, and surely a half hour was enough to allow for the usual tardiness.

But on went the hands of her little watch, and as it neared eleven Patty couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Flo,” she said, gently touching the sleeping girl, “Flo, dear.” Flo moved uneasily, opened her eyes, closed them again, and was as sound asleep as ever.

“Well, I’ll let her be,” thought Patty, unselfishly. “She couldn’t help any, and I don’t know that there’s anything to be helped. I suppose there’s nothing wrong. What could be? Father’s asleep in the smoking-car, and Flo’s asleep here, so I may as well sit patiently till we reach Venice, and then they’ll have to wake up, whether they want to or not.”

A guard came through the corridor, and looked in at the compartment door.

He said something in Italian, which Patty couldn’t understand. But she showed him her watch, and said “Venice? stazione? when?”

She pointed to the hands, and partly comprehending, the guard took out his own watch and indicated that they would reach the stazione (station) at quarter to twelve.

“Train late?” said Patty, smiling, and still partly understanding, the guard said, “Si, signorina,” bowed, and went away.

A little cheered at having had some one to speak to, even if for a most unsatisfactory conversation, Patty sat down again to wait. Her heart was quite light now, for it was nearly time to reach Venice, and then all would be well. At half-past eleven she wakened Flo.

“Get up, girlie,” she cried. “We’re almost to Venice, and you must tidy your hair and put your hat on.”

Flo sat up, wide awake all at once. “Where’s your father?” she said.

“He hasn’t come back,” said Patty, feeling somehow guilty under Flo’s accusing glance, but determined to stand up for her father. “He must have fallen asleep, just as you did. I tried twice to wake you, but you slept like a log.”

“And you’ve been all alone? Oh, Patty, I’m so sorry! Do forgive me!”

“Not at all, you sleepy child. It’s all right, I see lights outside already. Here, put on your hat.”

Flo rose and yawned, as she took her hat from Patty. They furbished up their toilets a bit, and soon were all ready to leave the train. Patty pushed the curtain up, and gazed out of the window.

“The lights are growing thicker now,” she said; “we’re almost in. I should think the porter would wake father up by this time. Well, I’m very sure nothing has happened to him.”

Patty’s decided statement gave Flo a clue that Patty was secretly afraid something had happened to her father, and as Flo had had such a fear all the time, she, too, stoutly denied it.

“Of course not! Nothing could happen to him. He’s just asleep, as I was. I don’t see how you got me awake at all. Snippy has to throw cold water in my face to do it.”

The train drew into the great station. There were many lights, but not many people about, which was doubtless because of the lateness of the hour.

The guard threw open the door of their compartment, and the two girls got out. Patty thought the guard looked at them a little curiously, and supposing he was desirous of a fee, she gave him some coins. He bowed, and still hovered near them.

“Where is the smoking-car?” asked Patty, but the guard knew not the strange word, and only shook his head.

“Flo,” said Patty, looking about, “we’d better stand right here. When father gets out of his car, he’ll come here for us. But didn’t you think Venice had water streets? These are ordinary roads. And I see lots of omnibuses, but no gondolas.”

“I suppose the water streets are only in the main part of the city,” said Flo. “It does seem to be solid land all around the station. I can’t see any water anywhere.”

“Well, there must be some, somewhere. Flo, where do you suppose father is?”

“I don’t know, Patty, and,—and, I’m—awfully frightened.”

“Well, you just stop being frightened. I tell you everything is all right,—or will be, in a minute.”

The crowd was moving along toward the entrance to the station, through which all the incoming passengers must go, and Patty reluctantly said, “We’d better go on into the station, Flo. We can’t stand here, and father will surely find us there, if—if——”

Patty nearly broke down, for a sudden conviction had come to her that something serious must have happened to keep Mr. Fairfield from them now. The two girls, with their light luggage still in their hands, followed the crowd through the ticket gate.

“Biglietti,” said the ticket man.

“I haven’t any,” said Patty, and without waiting to hear the man’s surprised protest, Patty pushed Flo ahead of her, and they went on into the waiting-room of the station.

“Something has happened, Flo,” she said, “something awful, perhaps,—but I can’t imagine what it is. Now, we’re alone, and unprotected in a strange land, and it’s up to us to be brave and sensible. I shall take the gondola or omnibus, or whatever goes to the Royal Danieli Hotel, and go right straight there. Then we can get somebody to look for father. But two young girls can do nothing, and we’d only waste time.”

“You’re splendid, Patty,” said Flo, who was struggling hard to keep from crying. “I’m no good at all, but I’ll do just as you say.”

They went on to the platform, where a dozen or more omnibuses stood waiting, with their doors hospitably open. Names of hotels were in gilded letters over the doors, but Patty could not see the one she sought.

But at last she discovered an official, who seemed to be a sort of station agent or train-despatcher, and he had such a kindly, intelligent face that she addressed him:

“Do you speak English?” she said.

“Yes, miss, a little,” he replied, looking at her with a questioning expression.

“Then please tell me where is the Royal Danieli Hotel?”

“It is in Venice, miss.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I know it is in Venice; but I mean where is its omnibus? how can I get to it?”

“To get to it, you must go to Venice, ma’am.”

“But I am in Venice!”

“No, ma’am, you are in Milan.”

“What?” cried Patty, aghast at his words.

“This is Milan, ma’am.”

“Are you,—are you quite sure?” Even in her bewildered horror, Patty realised the ludicrousness of this question.

“Perceive the signboard, ma’am.” The man pointed to large-lettered sign, which unmistakably announced Milano.

“Flo,” said Patty, in a scared, little voice, “I don’t know what it means, but it seems we are in Milan instead of in Venice.”

“Oh, Patty!” gasped Flo, as she clung desperately to Patty’s arm; “what shall we do?”

“I don’t know,” said Patty, slowly; “it’s a pretty serious thing for two girls to be alone in the middle of the night in a strange Italian city.

“But I took the train for Venice,” said Patty to the man, and her tone had in it a faint tinge of accusation, though of course the man was in no way responsible.

“So, ma’am?” he replied, and in an instant Patty saw that he did not believe her statements, and that he was covertly laughing at them.

“Come away, Flo,” she said, sternly, and marched the now weeping girl into the station again.

“Listen, Flo,” said Patty, her face assuming a very grave look. “We are in an awful predicament. Perhaps more awful than we know ourselves. We are in Milan, there’s no doubt of that. That’s why we didn’t see any water or gondolas. Where father is I’ve no idea. Of course there was some mistake about the train. He may be gone on to Venice,—though I don’t see how he could have done that without us,—or he may be in some other city. At any rate, he’s quite as anxious about us as we can possibly be about ourselves. Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, but I’m going to do the very best I can to prove that an American girl can take care of herself in an emergency. We won’t speak to that man out there again; he’s horrid, and he doesn’t believe what we say. The ticket office is closed. There’s no one reliable around but the drivers of those omnibuses. I shall appeal to them.”

“Why don’t you speak to some of the travellers?” asked Flo.

“Oh, you never can judge about them; and they’re mostly Italians anyway. Have you any money?”

“No; only a little change. Snippy carries the purse.”

“Well, I’ve not very much, but I think I’ve enough. Now, come with me. Stand by me, and don’t act one bit frightened. That’s all you can do to help,—so do it!”

When Patty was face to face with a serious emergency, it always made her curt of speech, and her stern manner made Flo recover herself at once, so that it was two very dignified-looking young women who approached the drivers who, whip in hand, stood lined up along the platform.

Although they sometimes seemed eager to attract passengers, none of them asked the girls to get into their vehicles, and Patty went along until she came to one whose face she liked.

“Do you speak English?” she asked, as she looked at him coldly.

“Yes, madame.”

“Which is the largest and best hotel in Milan, near the station?”

The driver pointed to a large hotel just across the road, scarcely a stone’s throw from the station itself.

“The Palace Hotel, madame,” he said respectfully.

“Where is its omnibus?”

“There, madame,” and he pointed to a well-appointed vehicle standing near.

“Get in, Flo,” said Patty, briefly. “Thank you,” she added, turning to bestow a coin on the man.

“To the hotel,” she then directed, as she got into the omnibus, and seated herself beside Flo.

“Oh, Patty!” said Flo, trembling, as she grasped Patty’s hand. They were all alone in the omnibus, and in two minutes it was entering the driveway of the hotel.

“Be careful, now,” said Patty, still sternly. “We’re not out of the woods yet,—and if you cry or look distressed you’ll spoil all I’m trying to do, and I’ll not answer for the consequences. Now, brace up!”

Flo braced up, and as they alighted from the omnibus, Patty motioned for the porter to bring the bags and wraps.

She went directly to the desk, where the night attendant was.

“You speak English, of course?” she said.

“Yes, mademoiselle.”

“We have had an accident,—a misfortune. My friend and myself must stay here to-night. I wish to engage three communicating rooms, and I wish also the services of a maid,—I prefer an elderly woman,—who will remain with us through the night and will occupy the third room.”

“Yes, mademoiselle.” The man looked astonished, but Patty’s quiet dignity, and Flo’s impassive English stolidity, gave them an air of authority, which he was disinclined to ignore.

“Our large luggage was left on the train, owing to the—accident,” went on Patty. “I will pay you fifty francs in advance and will settle the rest of the bill to-morrow. For the present it is imperative that we go to our rooms at once.”

“Yes, mademoiselle,” repeated the bewildered man. He was accustomed to American guests, but this was a new type.

He rang a bell, he despatched one or two messengers, he called a porter, and in a few moments Patty saw her bag and cloak carried by, the elevator door thrown open, and a pleasant-faced matronly woman coming toward them.

“This is Mrs. Ponderby, mademoiselle. She is one of our linen-keepers, but she is English, and most trusty and capable, so I offer you her services.”

Patty almost fell into the arms of the kind-looking woman, she was so glad to see her, but she only shook hands and said, “I am glad to have your services, Mrs. Ponderby,—come, let us go upstairs.”