She was occupied in this useful
employment when the noise of wheels made them both stop and look over
the wall.
"Here's the padrone!" cried the boy.
"Oh, he is old!" said Goneril; "he is old and brown, like a
coffee-bean."
"To be old and good is better than youth with malice," suggested
Angiolino, by way of consolation.
"I suppose so," acquiesced Goneril.
Nevertheless she went in to dinner a little disappointed.
The signorino was not in the house; he had gone up to the villa. But he
had sent a message that later in the evening he intended to pay his
respects to old friends. Madame Petrucci was beautifully dressed in soft
black silk, old lace, and a white Indian shawl. Miss Prunty had on her
starchiest collar and most formal tie. Goneril saw it was necessary that
she, likewise, should deck herself in her best. She was too young and
impressionable not to be influenced by the flutter of excitement and
interest which filled the whole of the little cottage. Goneril, too, was
excited and anxious, although Signor Graziano had seemed so old and
like a coffee-bean. She made no progress in the piece of embroidery she
was working as a present for the two old ladies; jumping up and down to
look out of the window. When, about eight o'clock, the door-bell rang,
Goneril blushed, Madame Petrucci gave a pretty little shriek, Miss
Prunty jumped up and rang for the coffee.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253