ntleman 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!"

CHAPTER III

GIUSIPPE TELLS A STORY

When Uncle Bob heard of Jean's adventure he lost no time, you may be
sure, in hunting up Giusippe Cicone. A note was sent to Murano asking
that the lad call at the hotel; and as the following day chanced to be
a festa day the glass works were closed and Giusippe presented himself
directly after breakfast. He was neatly although poorly clothed, and
had he had no other claim to Mr. Cabot's good will than his frank face
that would have won him a welcome. Perhaps added to Uncle Bob's
gratitude there was, too, a measure of the artist's joy in the
beautiful; for Giusippe was handsome. Thick brown hair clustered about
the well-formed head; his eyes were of soft hazel; and into his round
olive cheek was steeped the rich crimson of the southern sun. More than
all this, he was a well bred lad--manly, courteous, and proud. When Mr.
Cabot began to thank him for his service to Jean the boy made light of
what he had done and once more refused to accept any reward.

Uncle Bob's c