“I have heard of people kissing images of the Saints,” said Chester, “but I have never seen anything of the kind.  Let us rest here a while, to see if anything happens.”

Lucy was glad of the suggestion as she was more tired than she wished to acknowledge.  The big church was cool and quiet.  Worshipers singly and in twos were coming and going.  Presently, a woman, and presumably her daughter, came in, and as they passed St. Peter they leaned forward and kissed the shining, metal toe.  They passed on to a confessional where the priest could be seen and faintly heard behind the latticed window.

All this was exceedingly interesting to the young people.  The two brothers were absorbed more in the building itself than what was going on within; even to what their two young people were doing.  Chester, surely was prompted by a spirit of sacriledge when he took from an inner pocket a picture post-card he had bought in Ireland.

“The kissing of the toe reminded me of it,” said he, as he handed the card to Lucy, who looked at the picture of an Irishman in the act of kissing his sweetheart, Blarney Castle being shown in the distance.  Underneath was the following: 

    “With quare sinsashuns and palpitashuns,
      A kiss I’ll venture here, Mavrone;
    ’Tis swater Blarney, good Father Mahoney,
      Kissin’ the girls than that dirty stone.”

Lucy’s father tapped her on the shoulder.  “You’re in a church.  Behave yourself,” he said.  “Come, let’s be going.”

CHAPTER XII.

It was evident that, notwithstanding the good intentions which all persons concerned had of not overreaching in the sight-seeing business, Lucy, at least, was feeling its effects.  That she would have to remain quiet for some days was the verdict of the physician which her father called.  There was no immediate danger, said he to Chester, but the heart action was feeble.  A week of absolute rest would remedy that.

Chester was packed off to Switzerland alone, contrary to the program he had looked forward to.  Uncle Gilbert did not care to go.  Mr. Strong would have to remain with Lucy, so if Chester was to see Switzerland, he would have to try it alone.  When Chester heard of the arrangement, he demurred; but when Lucy’s father suggested to him that perhaps it would be best for her, he said no more.

After Chester’s departure, the three settled down to the business at hand, that of resting.  That was easy enough for Lucy and her father, but Uncle Gilbert was hale and hearty, so he continued to make short daily excursions to points of interest.  They had pleasant quarters, not too near the noise of the city.  The semi-private hotel had but few guests, so the back garden in which dinner was usually served, proved a desirable lounging-place.

Uncle Gilbert was away that afternoon.  Lucy was resting in her room.  The Rev. Mr. Strong paced nervously back and forth in the garden for a time, then dropped heavily into an easy chair.  The French maid, stepping quietly about placed a pillow under his head, which kindness he accepted gratefully.  The garden was still.  There were no sharp near-noises, the city’s activity coming merely as a faint distant hum.