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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 coffee. A moment afterward the signorino entered. While he was greeting her hostesses Goneril cast a rapid glance at him. He was tall for an Italian, rather bent and rather gray; fifty at least therefore very old.
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. A moment afterwards the signorino entered. While he was greeting her hostesses, Goneril cast a rapid glance at him. He was tall for an Italian; rather bent and rather grey; fifty at least, therefore very old.
And then there came a terrible ordeal. Miss Prunty, anxious to divert the current of her friend's ideas, had suggested that the girl should sing. Signor Graziano and madame insisted; they would take no refusal. "Sing, sing, little bird!" cried the old lady. "But, madame, how can one after you?"
And then there came a terrible ordeal. Miss Prunty, anxious to divert the current of her friend's ideas, suggested that the girl should sing. Signor Graziano and madame insisted; they would take no refusal. "Sing, sing, little bird!" cried the old lady. "But, madame, how can one after you?"
"Only think, Aunt Margaret," she cried impatiently, "I am to stay there for at least six weeks, and I know nothing about them, not what age they are, nor if they are tall or short, jolly or prim, pretty or ugly; not even if they speak English!" "They speak English," said Miss Hamelyn, beginning at the end. "One of them is English, or at least Irish: Miss Prunty." "And the other?"
She had sweet dark eyes, a little too small and narrow. "I mean to be very happy," she exclaimed. "Always mean that, my dear," said Miss Prunty. "And now, since Gonerilla is no longer a stranger," added Madame Petrucci, "we will leave her to the rustic society of Angiolino, while we show Miss Hamelyn our orangery." "And conclude our business!" said Bridget Prunty.
It was with very red eyes that Goneril went in to dinner. "So the cousin hasn't come?" said Miss Prunty, kindly. "No; he had to go home at once for his examination." "I dare say he'll come over again soon, my dear," said that discriminating lady. She had quite taken Goneril back into her good graces. They all sat together in the little parlor after dinner. At eight o'clock the door-bell rang.
"Of course we shall!" cried the elder lady. "Goneril is easily made happy," asserted Miss Hamelyn. "That's a good thing," snapped Miss Prunty; "for there's not much here to make her so!" "Oh, Brigida! I am sure there are many attractions. The air! the view! the historic association! and, more than all, you know there is always a chance of the Signorino!"
"Only think, Aunt Margaret," she cried, impatiently, "I am to stay there for at least six weeks, and I know nothing about them, not what age they are, nor if they are tall or short, jolly or prim, pretty, or ugly, not even if they speak English!" "They speak English," said Miss Hamelyn, beginning at the end. "One of them is English, or at least Irish: Miss Prunty." "And the other?"
And all the while Monsieur Bronte had nothing worse to conceal than that he was from County Down and his name Prunty. He wouldn't give in and tell the story of his life to slow music, and so the girl wept and then stormed, and finally Bronte stormed and went away, and the girl and her parents were sure that the Frenchman was a murderer escaping justice.
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