CHAPTER VIIMARY LOUISE INTRUDES
It was four years later when on a sunny afternoon in April a carriagebroke down on the Amalfi Road, between Positano and Sorrento, in Italy.A wheel crumpled up and the driver stopped his horses and explained tohis passengers in a jumble of mixed Italian and English that he couldgo no farther. The passengers, an old gentleman of distinguishedappearance and a young girl as fresh and lovely as a breath of spring,clambered out of the rickety vehicle and after examining the wheeladmitted that their driver spoke truly. On one side the road was asteep descent to the sea; opposite, the hillside was masked by atrellis thick with grapevines. The road curved around the mountain, sothere was no other vista.
"Here's a nice fix, Gran'pa Jim!" exclaimed the girl, with an amusedlaugh. "Where are we and what's going to become of us?"
"That is somewhat of a complicated problem, Mary Louise, and I can'tguess it offhand, without due reflection," replied "Gran'pa Jim," whomothers called Colonel Hathaway. "I imagine, however, that we are aboutthree miles from Positano and five or six from Sorrento, and it's astiff walk, for old legs or young, in either direction. Besides,there's our luggage, which I am loth to abandon and disinclined tocarry."
The driver interposed.
"Give-a me the moment, Signore--perhaps the hour--an' I return toPositano for more carriage-wheel--some other. My Cousin L'uigi, heleeve in Positano, an' L'uigi have a-many carriage-wheel in he's shed.I sure, Signore, I getta the wheel."
"That is a sensible idea," said the old gentleman. "Make haste, my man,and we will wait here."
The driver unhitched his horses from the vehicle and after strapping ablanket on one of them for a saddle mounted it and departed.
"I take-a the two horse," he explained, "for one to ride-a me, an' onefor to ride-a the wheel."
They watched him amble away down the road and Mary Louise shook herhead and remarked:
"He will never make it in an hour, at that rate, Gran'pa Jim, and intwo hours the sun will have set and it will be dinner time. Already Ifeel the pangs of hunger."
"Those who travel in Italy," said her grandfather, "should be preparedto accept any happening in a spirit of resignation. A moment ago wewere jogging merrily along toward a good hotel and a savory dinner, butnow----"
"This entire carriage seems ready to fall apart," declared the girl,standing in the road and viewing the ancient vehicle critically; "soit's a wonder something didn't break sooner. Now, if we could get tothe other side of that trellis, Gran'pa Jim, we might find a shady spotto rest while our charioteer is searching for a new wheel."
"There must be a gate, somewhere about," he answered, eyeing thevine-clad barrier. "Come, Mary Louise, let us investigate."
A hundred yards down the road they came to some rude stone steps and awicket. The old gentleman lifted the wooden latch and found the gateunlocked. Followed by Mary Louise, he entered the vineyard anddiscovered a narrow, well-beaten path leading up the hillside.
"Perhaps there is a house near by," said the girl. "Shall we go on,Gran'pa Jim?"
"Why not, my dear? These Italians are hospitable folk and we may get acake and a cup of goat's milk to stay our appetite."
So they climbed the hill, following the little path, and presently cameupon a laborer who was very deliberately but methodically cultivatingthe vines with a V-shaped hoe. Seeing the strangers the manstraightened up and, leaning upon his hoe, eyed them with evidentsuspicion.
"Good afternoon," said the old gentleman in Italian--one of the fewphrases in the language he had mastered.
"Oh, I speak the English, Signore," replied the man, doffing his hat."I am Silvio Allegheri, you must know, and I live in America sometime."
"Why, this is like meeting an old friend!" exclaimed Mary Louise,winning the fellow instantly with her smile. "But why did you leaveAmerica, Silvio?"
"Because I have make my fortune there," was the solemn reply. "It iseasy to make the fortune in America, Signorina. I am chef in therestaurant in Sandusky--you know Sandusky?--most excellent! In a fewyears I save much money, then I return here an' purchase an estate. Myestate is three miles across the hill, yonder, and there is a road toit which is not much used. However, it is a fine estate, an' I am rentit to my cousin for five hundred lira a year. Such good business habitI learn in America."
"Why don't you live on your estate yourself?" inquired the girl.
"It is not yet the time," answered the man, with a shake of his head."I am but fifty-two years alive, and while I am still so young I shallwork for others, and save the money my estate brings me. When I get oldand can no longer work for the others, then I will go to my estate an'be happy."
"Very sensible," commented the old gentleman. "And whom do you work fornow?"
"The student Americano, Signore; the one who has rented this valuableestate. I am the Signore Student's valet, his gardener, and at timeshis chef. I grease his automobile, which is a very small chug-chug, butrespectable, and I clean his shoes--when I can catch him with them off.I am valuable to him and for three years he has paid me fair wages."
"Is this a big estate?" asked Mary Louise.
"Enormous, Signorina. It comprises three acres!"
"And where is the house?"
"Just over the hill, yonder, Signore.
"Does the student Americano live here all alone?"
"With his daughter, who is the Signorina Alora."
"Oh; there is a daughter, then? And you say they are Americans?"
"Surely, Signorina. Who else would pay the great price for this estatefor three years? The land pays nothing back--a few oranges; somegrapes, when they are cared for; a handful of almonds and olives. Andthere is a servant besides myself, my niece Leona, who is housemaid andassists the young lady."
"This sounds promising," said Mary Louise, turning to her grandfather."Suppose we go up to the house? Are the people at home, Silvio?--theSignore Student and his daughter?"
The man reflected, leaning on his hoe.
"I think they are both at the mansion, Signorina, although the studentAmericano may not yet have returned from Sorrento. The road to themansion is beyond the hill, on the other side of the estate, so I amnot sure the Signore Student has returned. But you will find theSignorina Alora there, if you decide to venture on. But perhaps you arethe friends of my employer and his daughter?"
"What is his name?" asked Colonel Hathaway.
"It is Jones. The American saying is Mister Jason Jones, but here he isonly called the Signore Student Americano."
"Why?" asked Mary Louise.
"Because his occupation is reading. He does nothing else. Always thereis a book in his hand and always he is thinking of the things he reads.He does not often speak, even to his daughter; he does not have friendswho visit him. If you should call at the mansion, then you will be thefirst people who have done so for three years."
There was something in this report--in the manner of the man as well ashis words--that caused the strangers to hesitate. The description of"the Student" led them to suspect he was a recluse who might notwelcome them cordially, but Mary Louise reflected that there was adaughter and decided that any American girl shut up on this three-acre"estate" for three years would be glad to meet another American girl.So she said abruptly:
"Come on, Gran'pa Jim. Let's call. It is possible that Americans willhave something better in the larder than cakes and goat's milk."
The hilltop was reached sooner than they expected, and in a little valewas the old mansion--a really attractive vine-clad villa that mighthave stood a century or so. It was not very big, but there werenumerous outbuildings which rendered the size of the house properunimportant. As Mary Louise and her grandfather drew nearer theydiscovered a charming flower garden, carefully tended, and were notsurprised to find a young girl bending over a rosebush.