Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them.
'Good morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There's nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's a little stout.--You're late,' she added with a touch of severity. 'Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes.'
She turned back toward the donkey-man, who was standing, hat in hand, respectfully waiting orders. 'Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are going alone.'
'You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain.' There was disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone.
'We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Without the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles.'
'As you please, signorina.' He turned away.
Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse. When this plan of sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and fitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished. But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spiting herself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrifice seemed necessary.
When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky, and Constance could not forgo the pleasure of baiting him further.
They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr. Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent before the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other matters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angular hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been so intent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony's astonished stare as he passed it to her.