“The poor things,” said Peggy, who had a sympathetic heart.  “I’m sure I’m sorry for them, and I hate to ask them for it.  But one’s got to try and live.”

She was drying Illuminato (baptized in that name by his father’s desire, but by his mother called Micky) before the stove in the great dining-room.  Illuminato had just tumbled off the bottom step into the water, and had been fished out by his uncle Peter; he was three, and had humorous, screwed-up eyes and a wide mouth like a frog’s, so that Hilary, who detested ugliness, could really hardly be fond of him.  Peggy was; but then Peggy always had more sense of humour than Hilary.

A boarder looked in to see if lunch was ready.  It was not, but Peggy began preparations by screaming melodiously for Teresina.  They heard the boarder sigh.  He was a tall young man with inspired eyes and oily hair.  Peter had observed him the night before, with some interest.

“That’s Guy Vyvian,” Peggy told him, looking for Illuminato’s dryer suit in the china cupboard.

“Fancy,” said Peter.

“Yes,” said Peggy, pulling out a garment and dropping a plate out of its folds on the polished marble floor.  “There now!  Micky, you’re a tiresome little ape and I don’t love you.  Guy Vyvian’s an ape, too, entirely; his one merit is that he writes for ‘The Gem,’ so that Hilary can take the rent he won’t pay out of the money he gives him for his articles.  It works out pretty well, on the whole, I fancy; they’re neither of them good at paying, so it saves them both bother. ("E pronto, Teresina?” “Subito, subito,” cried Teresina from the kitchen.) “I can’t abide Vyvian,” Peggy resumed.  “The babies hate him, and he makes himself horrid to everyone, and lets Rhoda Johnson grovel to him, and stares at the stains on the table-cloth, as if his own nails weren’t worse, and turns up his nose at the food.  Poor little Rhoda!  You saw her?  The little thin girl with a cough, who hangs on Vyvian’s words and blushes when her mother speaks.  She’s English governess to the Marchesa Azzareto’s children.  Mrs. Johnson’s a jolly old soul; I’m fond of her; she’s the best of the boarders, by a lot.  Now, precious, if you tumble in again this morning, you shall sit next to Mr. Vyvian at dinner.  You go and tell the others that from me.  It isn’t respectable, the way you all go on.  Here’s the minestra at last.”

Teresina, clattering about the marble floor with the minestra, screamed “Pronto,” very loud, and the boarders trailed in one by one.  First came Mr. Guy Vyvian, sauntering with resignedly lifted brows, and looking as if it ought to have been ready a long time ago; he was followed by Mrs. Johnson, a stout and pleasant lady, who looked as if she was only too delighted that it was ready now, and the more the better; her young daughter, Rhoda, wearing a floppy smocked frock and no collar but a bead necklace, coughed behind her; she looked pale and fatigued, and as if it didn’t matter in the least if it was