Mrs. Miller turned uneasily in her chair.  “I told you if I were to bring you, you would say something!” she murmured.

“I told you!” Randolph exclaimed.  “I tell you, sir!” he added jocosely, giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee.  “It is bigger, too!”

Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess; Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother.  “I hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey,” he said.

Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him—­at his chin.  “Not very well, sir,” she answered.

“She’s got the dyspepsia,” said Randolph.  “I’ve got it too.  Father’s got it.  I’ve got it most!”

This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller, seemed to relieve her.  “I suffer from the liver,” she said.  “I think it’s this climate; it’s less bracing than Schenectady, especially in the winter season.  I don’t know whether you know we reside at Schenectady.  I was saying to Daisy that I certainly hadn’t found any one like Dr. Davis, and I didn’t believe I should.  Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they think everything of him.  He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me.  He said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia, but he was bound to cure it.  I’m sure there was nothing he wouldn’t try.  He was just going to try something new when we came off.  Mr. Miller wanted Daisy to see Europe for herself.  But I wrote to Mr. Miller that it seems as if I couldn’t get on without Dr. Davis.  At Schenectady he stands at the very top; and there’s a great deal of sickness there, too.  It affects my sleep.”

Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis’s patient, during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own companion.  The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with Rome.  “Well, I must say I am disappointed,” she answered.  “We had heard so much about it; I suppose we had heard too much.  But we couldn’t help that.  We had been led to expect something different.”

“Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it,” said Winterbourne.

“I hate it worse and worse every day!” cried Randolph.

“You are like the infant Hannibal,” said Winterbourne.

“No, I ain’t!” Randolph declared at a venture.

“You are not much like an infant,” said his mother.  “But we have seen places,” she resumed, “that I should put a long way before Rome.”  And in reply to Winterbourne’s interrogation, “There’s Zurich,” she concluded, “I think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn’t heard half so much about it.”

“The best place we’ve seen is the City of Richmond!” said Randolph.

“He means the ship,” his mother explained.  “We crossed in that ship.  Randolph had a good time on the City of Richmond.”

“It’s the best place I’ve seen,” the child repeated. 
“Only it was turned the wrong way.”