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Page 72
"I didn't feel bound to change my tickets less ten per cent.," he said
hopefully, "and we're sure to come across them early and often. In the
meantime you might try and soften me a little--about Lot's wife."
Next day, in the Ufizzi, it was no surprise to meet the Miss Binghams.
We had a guilty consciousness of fellow-citizenship as we recognised
them, and did our best to look as if two weeks were quite long enough to
be forgotten in, but they seemed charitable and forgiving on this
account, said they had looked out for us everywhere, and _had_ we seen
the cuttings in the Vatican?
"The statues, you know," explained Miss Cora kindly, seeing that we did
not comprehend. "Marvellous--simply marvellous! We enjoyed nothing so
much as the marble department. It takes it out of you though--we were
awfully done afterwards."
I wondered what Phidias would have said to the "cuttings," and whether
the Miss Binghams imagined it a Briticism. It also occurred to me that
one should never mix one's colloquialisms; but that, of course, did not
prevent their coming round with us. I believe they did it partly to
diffuse their guide among a larger party. He was hanging, as they came
up, upon Miss Cora's reluctant earring, so to speak, and she was
mechanically saying, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" to his representations. "I
suppose," said she inadvertently, "there is no way of preventing their
giving one information," and after that when she hospitably pressed the
guide upon us we felt at liberty to be unappreciative.
I regret to write it of two maiden ladies of good New York family, and a
knowledge of the world; but the Miss Binghams capitulated to Dicky Dod
with a promptness and unanimity which would have been very bad for him
if nobody had been there to counteract its effects. He walked between
them through the vestibules, absorbing a flow of tribute from each side
with a complacency which his recent trying experiences made all the more
profound. There was always a something, Miss Nancy declared, about an
American who had made his home in England--you could always tell. "In
your case, Mr. Dod, there is an association of Bond Street. I can't
describe it, but it is there. I hope you don't mind my saying so."
"Oh, no," said Dicky, "I guess it's my tailor. He lives in Bond Street;"
but this was artless and not ironical. Miss Cora went further. "I should
have taken Mr. Dod for an Englishman," she said, at which the
miscalculated Mr. Dod looked alarmed.
"Is that so?" he responded. "Then I'll book my passage back at once.
I've been over there too long. You see I've been kind of obliged to
stay for reasons connected with the firm, but you ladies can take my
word for it that when you get through this sort of ridiculous veneer
I've picked up you'll find a regular all-wool-and-a-yard-wide
city-of-Chicago American, and I'm bound to ask you not to forget it.
This English way of talking is a thing that grows on a fellow
unconsciously, don't you know. It wears off when you get home."
At which Miss Cora and Miss Nancy looked at each other smilingly and
repeated "Don't you know" in derisive echo, and we all felt that our
young friend had been too modest about his acquirements.
"But we mustn't neglect our old masters," cried Miss Nancy as those of
the first corridor began to slip past us on the walls, with no desire to
interrupt. "What do you think of this Greek Byzantine style, Mr. Wick?
Somehow it doesn't seem to appeal to me, though whether it's the
flatness--or what----"
"It _is_ flat, certainly," agreed the Senator, "but that's a very
popular style of angel for Christmas cards--the more expensive kinds.
Here, I suppose, we get the original."
"That is Tuscan school, sir--madam," put in the guide, "and not
angel--Saint Cecilia. Fourteen century, but we do not know that artiss
his name. In the book you will see Cimabue, but it is not
Cimabue--unknown artiss."
"Dear me!" cried momma. "St. Cecilia, of course. Don't you remember her
expression--in the Catacombs?"
"She's sweet, always and everywhere," said Miss Cora, as we moved on,
leaving the guide explaining St. Cecilia with his hands behind his back.
"And you did go to Capri after all? Now I wonder, Nancy, if they had our
experience about the oysters?"
"A horrid little man!" cried momma.
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