“It is me, sir signore.  I am engage by you.  Is it not so?”

Mr. Merrick looked at the driver carefully.  It was long-legs, sure enough, but shorn of his beautiful regalia.

“Where’s your uniform?” he asked.

“Ah, I have leave it home.  The road is dusty, very; I must not ruin a nice dress when I work,” answered the man, smiling unabashed.

“But the carriage.  What has become of the fine carriage and the good horses, sir?”

“Ah, it is dreadful; it is horrible, signore.  I find me the carrozza is not easy; it is not perfect; it do not remain good for a long ride.  So I leave him home, for I am kind.  I do not wish the signorini bella to tire and weep.  But see the fine vetture you now have!  Is he not easy like feathers, an’ strong, an’ molto buena?”

“It may be a bird, but it don’t look it,” said Uncle John, doubtfully.  “I rented the best looking rig in town, and you bring me the worst.”

“Only try, signore!  Others may look; it is only you who must ride.  You will be much please when we return.”

“Well, I suppose we may as well take it,” said the little man, in a resigned tone.  “Hop in, my dears.”

They entered the crazy looking vehicle and found the seats ample and comfortable despite the appearance of dilapidation everywhere prevalent.  The driver mounted the box, cracked his whip, and the lean nags ambled away at a fair pace.

They passed near to the square, where the first thing that attracted Uncle John’s attention was the beautiful turnout he had hired yesterday.  It was standing just as it had before, and beside it was another man dressed in the splendid uniform his driver had claimed that he had left at home.

“Here—­stop!  Stop, I say!” he yelled at the man, angrily.  But the fellow seemed suddenly deaf, and paid no heed.  He cracked his whip and rattled away through the streets without a glance behind him.  The girls laughed and Uncle John stopped waving his arms and settled into his seat with a groan.

“We’ve been swindled, my dears,” he said; “swindled most beautifully.  But I suppose we may as well make the best of it.”

“Better,” agreed Patsy.  “This rig is all right, Uncle.  It may not be as pretty as the other, but I expect that one is only kept to make engagements with.  When it comes to actual use, we don’t get it.”

“That’s true enough,” he returned.  “But I’ll get even with this rascal before I’ve done with him, never fear.”

It was a cold, raw morning, but the portiere at the Victoria had told them the sun would be out presently and the day become more genial.  Indeed, the sun did come out, but only to give a discouraged look at the landscape and retire again.  During this one day in which they rode to Amalfi and back, Uncle John afterward declared that they experienced seven different kinds of weather.  They had sunshine, rain, hail, snow and a tornado; and then rain again and more sunshine.