ITALIAN VIOLETS
"DO make up your minds and let us go somewhere," Frieda pleaded. "I
don't see that it is so important where we go first."
She was wearing a new lavender cloth frock trimmed in silk and a hat of
the same shade, with a big bunch of violets resting against her yellow
hair. From her hand dangled her adored gold-link pocketbook. So there
was no question of Frieda's preparedness for beginning their first day's
sight-seeing in Rome. Ruth and the other three girls showed no such
signs of being ready for immediate departure.
They were together in their big sitting room, which overlooked a
beautiful enclosed court, characteristic of Italian hotels and homes.
And at least half an hour of their morning the girls had devoted to
gazing out of their windows. In the center of the courtyard a fountain
played continually--not a fountain of an ordinary kind, but the figure
of a beautiful boy, with his arms high in the air, holding two great
shells into which the water poured and then splashed down to the ground
below. Around the enclosure were copies of famous statues and miniature
orange and lemon trees.
Jack in a comfortable silk dressing gown was placidly gazing at this
scene when Frieda's speech arrested her attention.
"Why be in such a hurry, Frieda mia?" she inquired. "You know we have
firmly decided not to begin our labors too early. Besides, this morning
we are tired and don't you see that Ruth, Jean and Olive are deeply
engaged in laying out our plan of campaign? It has got to be arranged
where we are to go, what we are to do on our arrival, what things we are
to thrill over and what to pass by." And Jack laughed, letting her eyes
rest for a moment on Ruth's face. Their chaperon's expression was so
serious. Did Jack guess that her education was about to be solemnly
taken in hand? Well, she felt very young this morning and very much in
need of learning a great many things. Rome gave one such an overpowering
sense of ignorance!
But Frieda was much displeased. "You told me you would be ready at
half-past ten, Jacqueline Ralston, and let me go and dress. Now it is
after eleven. And if nobody will come with me I shall just go out and
walk up and down by myself."
From the pages of her Baedeker Ruth looked up quickly. It was not often
that she was positive with the girls, but she had insisted that during
their stay in Italy no one of them go anywhere alone.
Frieda blushed penitently. "I didn't mean it, Ruth, of course. Still, I
think it's hateful for none of you even to start to get ready."
"Oh, do be quiet, Frieda, and sit down and wait, or, if not, go to your
own room," Jack remarked impatiently. "I think you are forgetting our
compact very soon. One more objection and you will kindly place your
fine in Ruth's charge."
Without replying, Frieda marched haughtily out of the sitting room and
into her own and Jean's bed room.
It was true that the night before leaving Naples the Rainbow Ranch party
had made a kind of "Traveler's Agreement Society," setting down a number
of rules for their mutual benefit and promising to follow them.
The suggestion had come from Olive who was always the peacemaker in all
differences of opinion. For although the travelers had been only a few
weeks upon their journey, already they had learned that there is nothing
that is a surer test of one's amiability than constant sight-seeing,
which entails a continuous moving from place to place of people who are
expected to do the same things at the same time regardless of their
personal tastes and inclination.
From the top of her suit-case Frieda drew forth a sheet of paper.
Possibly Jack had been right, for the rules of their compact read:
First: In all questions pertaining to travel, such as the selection of
places to be visited, choice of hotels, etc., the rule of the majority
shall prevail.
Second: In all questions in which there is a moral issue at stake, a
matter of right or wrong to be decided, the chaperon's judgment is to be
followed.
Third: If any member of the party becomes weary during the course of the
journey, all are to rest. (This rule was made for Jack's protection and
was Olive's proposal, knowing that her friend would never voluntarily
give up, if she thought her fatigue might interfere with their
pleasure.)
Fourth (and this was of Jack's recommendation): Each one shall try to be
as agreeable as possible to the others' friends, since it is not to be
expected that they could like the same people equally well.
Fifth: If any one of the five travelers shall make three cross speeches
in the course of one day, the said traveler is to pay into the keeping
of Ruth Drew a fine to the amount of fifty cents, United States money.
For the fourth cross speech, one dollar, and so on, with the amount
doubling. And at the end of the European trip, this sum, whatever the
amount, is to be employed for the purchase of a gift for the girl
against whose name there is the smallest number of bad counts.
And Frieda had rather expected that this prize would fall to her.
Indeed, she had quite made up her mind to attain it. For certainly she
was far more amiable than Jack or Jean, and Ruth was apt to grow nervous
if things went wrong. For instance, take this question of her going out
on the street alone. Ruth might have known that she had had no real
intention of being disobedient. Indeed, Olive was the only member of
their party whom Frieda believed she had reason to regard as her rival
in amiability. And of course one opponent was necessary to make the
contest interesting. Really, Frieda desired this prize more than most
anything she could think of--not just for the prize itself, although
there was no telling what its value might be, but because it could be
retained forever like a conqueror's flag to be waved over her family.
For ten minutes more, therefore, Frieda sat down in an upright chair,
waiting patiently. Notwithstanding this, Jean did not even come in for
her coat and hat, or with any suggestion that they ever intended leaving
the hotel.
It was abominably stupid to continue loitering forever, so finally the
young girl concluded to go down into the hotel lobby and watch the
people moving in and out, until her family at last made up their minds
to start. She would not go back into the sitting room again to argue the
question with them, but leave a little note near Jean's hat explaining
where she might be found.
In the corridor leading to the open front door Frieda discovered an
inconspicuous place and was entirely happy observing the hotel guests
and the small vista of the Roman street which she could see like a
picture through the opening.
An Italian priest passed by, wearing a solemn, long black robe tied
about his waist with a huge cord and a round, stiff black hat with a
broad brim and a flat crown. Frieda stared at him curiously. Then a
young fellow, evidently an artist from his costume, appeared, and, after
hesitating a moment, entered the hotel corridor. A few moments
afterwards he was joined by an older woman with two daughters in whom
Frieda at once became deeply interested. They were English girls--she
guessed this by a kind of instinct, they were so tall and fair and
slender, with drooping shoulders and pink and white complexions. The
little party left the hotel together and then there was a short interval
in which nothing happened to interest Frieda particularly, except the
foreign look of the people moving past in the street.
Weary of waiting, she was glancing at a queer carved clock on the wall
opposite her, when unexpectedly a fragrance enveloped her. Without
understanding why, the young girl felt a sudden wave of homesick
yearning for the Rainbow Ranch. Why should she think of home so
suddenly? For a few seconds Frieda was unconscious of any special
reason, and then, turning, she beheld standing in the doorway a small
Italian boy, beautiful as one of Raphael's cherubs, with a great basket
of Italian violets hanging on his arm.
Frieda smiled. No wonder she had recalled her home and the violet beds
planted next the Lodge in the days when she had expected to add to the
family fortunes by selling flowers. This was before there was ever a
thought of a gold mine hidden in Rainbow Creek.
What fun to buy a lot of violets for Ruth and the girls and have great
bunches of them to present, if ever they did decide to come down stairs!
A western girl, Frieda Ralston had always been accustomed to doing
things for herself. So now it never occurred to her to call a "facchino"
to accomplish her errand, although this Italian word for porter was one
of the few words that Frieda had already acquired from her phrase book.
Besides, was the boy not standing right there by the door? Quickly she
moved toward him. But at the same moment another customer must have
called from the street or else some servant in the hotel frightened the
child, for he slipped away and in an instant was half down the block.
And Frieda followed close behind, entirely oblivious of anything except
her present purpose. The boy ran lightly along and danced around a
corner like a sunbeam. There, where he made the turn, a fountain stood
in the center of the square that Frieda noticed particularly so there
might be no danger of her getting lost. Fortunately another customer
stopped the lad when, quite out of breath, Frieda finally managed to
catch up with him.
She didn't know the Italian words which should be employed in purchasing
violets, but fortunately the sign language was the original one with all
the peoples of the world. Very soon the basket of violets transferred
from the child's arm was swinging on the young girl's. When, with a
smile and a "buon giorno" (good morning) at the American Signorita's
prettiness and amazing wealth, the lad vanished as abruptly as he had
arrived.
Frieda glowed with pleasure. The violets were so exquisite, the sky so
blue, and the air so sparkling. Surely by the time of her return to the
hotel her family would be ready to begin their adventures. And there,
just ahead, was the fountain that she had observed so as not to make
any mistake about getting back safely.
Walking on in the direction of the fountain for a moment Frieda stood
admiring its beauty. But not for long of course, because Ruth and the
girls must never discover her absence. Turning away from the fountain,
straightway her puzzle began, for there were now half a dozen streets
leading from this central square and the wanderer had no idea which one
contained their hotel. Certainly Rome was very queer and unlike any
other city she had ever seen before. Many of the streets seemed to twist
and curve, winding in and out among the others. Nothing seemed to go
straight ahead in any given direction. However, Frieda, having concluded
that one of them looked a little more familiar than the others, tried it
first. There was nothing within a block, however, that resembled the
Hotel l'Italia and she was convinced of only having followed the boy for
a single street. She had best return to the fountain and start forth
again. But by the time one has followed this method of procedure three
or four times without success the effect is apt to be disheartening.