Podbury.  Yes, met BOB just now.  They’ve gone to the Europa, but we’ve arranged to take a gondola together, and go about.  They’re to pick me up here.  Ah, that looks rather like them. (A gondola approaches, with Miss PRENDERGAST and BOB; PODBURY goes down the steps to meet them.) How are you, Miss PRENDERGAST?  Here I am, you see.

[Illustration:  “I guess you want to Cologne your cheeks!”]

Miss Prendergastt (ignoring C.’s salute).  How do you do, Mr. PODBURY?  Surely you don’t propose to go out in a gondola in that hat!

Podb. (taking off a brown “pot-hat,” and inspecting it).  It—­it’s quite decent.  It was new when I came away!

Bob (who is surly this morning).  Hang it all, ’PATIA!  Do you want him to come out in a chimney-pot?  Jump in, old fellow; never mind your tile?

Podb. (apologetically).  I had a straw one—­but I sat on it.  I’m awfully sorry, Miss PRENDERGAST. Look here, shall I go and see if I can buy one?

Miss P. Not now—­it doesn’t signify, for once.  But around hat and a gondola are really too incongruous!

Podb. Are they?  A lot of the Venetians seem to wear ’em. (He steps in.) Now what are we going to do—­just potter about?

Miss P. One hardly comes to Venice to potter!  I thought we’d go and study the Carpaccios at the Church of the Schiavoni first—­they won’t take us more than an hour or so; then cross to San Giorgio Maggiore, and see the Tintorets, come back and get a general idea of the exterior of St. Mark’s, and spend the afternoon at the Accademia.

Podb. (with a slight absence of heartiness).  Capital!  And—­er—­lunch at the Academy, I suppose?

Miss P. There does not happen to be a restaurant there—­we shall see what time we have.  I must say I regard every minute of daylight spent on food here as a sinful waste.

Bob.  Now just look here, ’PATIA, if you are bossing this show, you needn’t go cutting us off our grub!  What do you say, JEM?

Podb. (desperately anxious to please).  Oh, I don’t know that I care about lunch myself—­much.

    [Their voices die away on the water.

Culch. (musing).  She might have bowed to me!... She has escaped the mosquitoes....  Ah, well, I doubt if she’ll find those two particularly sympathetic companions!  Now I should enjoy a day spent in that way.  Why shouldn’t I, as it is?  I daresay MAUD will—­

    [Turns and sees Mr. TROTTER.

Mr. T. My darter will be along presently.  She’s Cologning her cheeks—­they’ve swelled up again some.  I guess you want to Cologne your cheeks—­they’re dreadful lumpy.  I’ve just been on the Pi-azza again, Sir.  It’s curious now the want of enterprise in these Vernetians.  Anyone would have expected they’d have thrown a couple or so of girder-bridges across the canal between this and the Ri-alto, and run an elevator up the Campanile—­but this ain’t what you might call a business city, Sir, and that’s a fact. (To Miss T. as she appears.) Hello, MAUD, the ice-water cool down your face any?