s all right again."

"If it's a sprain he can't be too careful with it," she insisted.

"What is Italian for sprain?" asked May. "I want to tell the man to have
a doctor."

"I'm sure I don't know," said Uncle Dan, trembling for his guilty
secret. "I'll tell him."

"How can you tell him, if you don't know how?" May argued. Then, turning
abruptly, and glancing up into the intent, forward-looking face, just
visible in the uncertain lights of the Canal: "Hasn't your brother seen
a doctor?" she asked.

"Si, Signorina," Nanni replied, without an instant's hesitation.

"And what does he think is the trouble?"

"A slight sprain," said Nanni; "he hopes it is nothing serious!"

"That was very sensible of you," said May; "to send for a doctor at
once. There, Uncle Dan, now we know the Italian for sprain. I believe in
always trying to say everything!" in which startling statement the young
girl admitted more than she had intended.

They were just passing the Palazzo Darino, where a gondola lurked in the
shadow.

"We shall hardly see them in the crowd," Uncle Dan remarked. "What's
your idea, Nanni? Think you can keep us out of the jam?"

"Si, Signore; I know a place where they won't crowd us."

"What a funny name that is for a man," May exclaimed.

"It's short for Giovanni. I got in the way of calling him that when he
was a little shaver and used to row me about with his father."

The Canal was twinkling with gondola lights, and as they approached the
broad arch of the Rialto the crowd became greater, obliging them to
pause now and then, while the dip of multitudinous oars made itself
heard, a delicious undertone to the shouts and execrations of excited
gondoliers. Presently, however, they had cleared the bridge, and a few
strokes of the oar brought them into a quiet little haven formed by two
big boats moored alongside the fish-market. As they came to a stop they
could already hear the music floating round the great bend of the Canal.
The hulls of the two fishing-boats loomed tall and dark at either end of
the gondola, while the rays of a lamp in the arcade over yonder fell
athwart the yellow-brown sail of one of them, reefed loosely about the
mast. There were a good many people on the quay, but they were a quiet
gathering. The more aggressive members of the Venetian populace are
pretty sure to get afloat on such an occasion, and a dozen different
kinds of irresponsible craft were being propelled, with more or less