The last words were spoken just as the two gentlemen had come in from the dining-room, rather sooner than was expected, and they were taken up.

’Agrees with Phyllis!  She looks pounds—–­nay, hundred-weights better than when we left home.  I mean to have her down to-morrow on the beach for a lark—–­castle-building, paddling—–­with Mysie and Val, and Fergus and all.  That’s what would set her up best, wouldn’t it, Jane?’

Jane gave a laughing assent, wondering how much of this would indeed prove castle-building, though adding that Fergus was at school, and that it was not exactly the time of year for paddling.

’Oh, ah, eh!  Well, perhaps not—–­forestalling sweet St. Valentine—–­ stepping into their nests they paddled.  Though St. Valentine is past, and I thought our fortunes had been made, Mr. White, by calling this the English Naples, and what not.’

’Those are the puffs, my lord.  There is a good deal of difference even between this and Rocca Marina, which is some way up the mountain.’

‘It must be very beautiful,’ said Miss Ada.

‘Well, Miss Mohun, people do say it is striking.’  And he was drawn into describing the old Italian mansion, purchased on the extinction of an ancient family of nobles, perched up on the side of a mountain, whose feet the sea laved, with a terrace whence there was a splendid view of the Gulf of Genoa, and fine slopes above and below of chestnut-trees and vineyards; and therewith he gave a hearty invitation to the company present to visit him there if ever they went to Italy, when he would have great pleasure in showing them many bits of scenery, and curious remains that did not fall in the way of ordinary tourists.

Lady Rotherwood gratefully said she should remember the invitation if they went to the south, as perhaps they should do that very spring.

‘And,’ said Ada, ’you are not to be expected to remain long in this climate when you have a home like that awaiting you.’

‘Don’t call it home, Miss Mohun,’ he said.  ’I have not had that these many years; but I declare, the first sound of our county dialect, when I got out at the station, made my heart leap into my mouth.  I could have shaken hands with the fellow.’

’Then I hope you will remain here for some time.  There is much wanting to be set going,’ said Jane.

’So I thought of doing, and I had out a young fellow, who I thought might take my place—–­my partner’s son, young Stebbing.  They wrote that he had been learning Italian, with a view to being useful to me, and so on; but when he came out, what was he but a fine gentleman—–­ never had put his hand to a pick, nor a blasting-iron; and as to his Italian, he told me it was the Italian of Alfieri and Leopardi.  Leopardi’s Italian it might be, for it was a very mottled or motley tongue, but he might as well have talked English or Double-Dutch to our hands, or better, for they had picked up the meaning of some orders from me before I got used to their lingo.  And then he says ’tis office work and superintendence he understands.  How can you superintend, I told him, what you don’t know yourself?  No, no; go home and bring a pair of hands fit for a quarryman, before I make you overlooker.’