It was found easy to make the acquaintance of the interesting group, and many took advantage of that fact; for Uncle John chatted brightly with every man and Patsy required no excuse of a formal introduction to confide to every woman that John Merrick was taking his three nieces to Europe to “see the sights and have the time of their lives.”

Many of the business men knew well the millionaire’s name, and accorded him great respect because he was so enormously wealthy and successful.  But the little man was so genuinely human and unaffected and so openly scorned all toadyism that they soon forgot his greatness in the financial world and accepted him simply as a good fellow and an invariably cheerful comrade.

The weather was somewhat rough for the latter part of March—­they had sailed the twenty-seventh—­but the “Irene” was so staunch and rode the waves so gracefully that none of the party except Louise was at all affected by the motion.  The eldest cousin, however, claimed to be indisposed for the first few days out, and so Beth and Patsy and Uncle John sat in a row in their steamer chairs, with the rugs tucked up to their waists, and kept themselves and everyone around them merry and light hearted.

Next to Patsy reclined a dark complexioned man of about thirty-five, with a long, thin face and intensely black, grave eyes.  He was carelessly dressed and wore a flannel shirt, but there was an odd look of mingled refinement and barbarity about him that arrested the girl’s attention.  He sat very quietly in his chair, reserved both in speech and in manner; but when she forced him to talk he spoke impetuously and with almost savage emphasis, in a broken dialect that amused her immensely.

“You can’t be American,” she said.

“I am Sicilian,” was the proud answer.

“That’s what I thought; Sicilian or Italian or Spanish; but I’m glad it’s Sicilian, which is the same as Italian.  I can’t speak your lingo myself,” she continued, “although I am studying it hard; but you manage the English pretty well, so we shall get along famously together.”

He did not answer for a moment, but searched her unconscious face with his keen eyes.  Then he demanded, brusquely: 

“Where do you go?”

“Why, to Europe,” she replied, as if surprised.

“Europe?  Pah!  It is no answer at all,” he responded, angrily.  “Europe is big.  To what part do you journey?”

Patsy hesitated.  The magic word “Europe” had seemed to sum up their destination very effectively, and she had heretofore accepted it as sufficient, for the time being, at least.  Uncle John had bought an armful of guide books and Baedeckers, but in the hurry of departure she had never glanced inside them.  To go to Europe had been enough to satisfy her so far, but perhaps she should have more definite knowledge concerning their trip.  So she turned to Uncle John and said: 

“Uncle, dear, to what part of Europe are we going?”