elinquishment of these advantages. To the _padrone_, the
skilled physician who owed to him his education, was still, first and
foremost, the son of his old gondolier, in whom, when a bright boy of
fifteen, a week in hospital with a broken arm had aroused a consuming
ambition to be a doctor. The education, the profession, seemed to the
Colonel--perhaps because it was primarily due to him,--accidental and
extraneous. Fundamentally he was still the gondolier's son, the member
of a caste too imperative and enduring in character to yield to
circumstances.

And the really noteworthy feature of the situation was the fact that the
gondolier's son fully shared the view of the _padrone_. Once in Venice,
among his own people, Giovanni Scuro felt as thoroughly at home in the
character of gondolier, as if he had never learned the meaning of the
word science. Hence he could answer, with perfect sincerity: "Si,
Signore; I understand. But you may trust me. And you will go out with me
this evening?"

"Why, yes; I suppose we had better," said the Colonel, somewhat
reassured.

"And to-morrow, if Vittorio is not able to row? Of course that is as the
Signore wishes. Another gondolier can be had to-morrow for the asking;
but to-night, the prices are appalling. They have no consciences, these
men."

"We'll see how it works to-night. Ah! there are my nieces. We will meet
you at the door. And, by the way, Nanni, have you picked up any
English?"

"No, Signore; only French."

As the gondola came up to the landing the party stepped aboard as
quickly as might be, to clear the way for others who were waiting their
turn, and it occurred to Uncle Dan that the girls might, after all, not
notice the new man at the oar. But he had reckoned without May's
observant eyes. The moment the boat was free of the crowd, she turned
sharp about and looked at the _gondolier_.

"Why, Uncle Dan," she cried. "We've got a new man! Did you know it?"

"Yes; Vittorio has twisted his hand, and his brother has come to take
his place."

"His brother? Oh, yes; he does look like him. We were lucky to get him,
were we not?"

"What a pity Vittorio should have hurt his hand!" said Pauline. "I hope
it's nothing serious. He was such a nice man."

"No," said the Colonel, incautiously. "His brother says it's nothing
serious."

"But he can't know much about it," Pauline urged. "Don't you think he
ought to see a doctor?"

"I rather think he will, to-morrow, unless it'