Miss T. Not much.  My face just made that ice-water boil over.  I don’t believe I’ll ever have a complexion again—­it’s divided up among several dozen mosquitoes, who’ve no use for one.  But it’s vurry consoling to look at you, Mr. CULCHARD, and feel there’s a pair of us.  Now what way do you propose we should endeavor to forget our sufferings?

Culch. Well, we might spend the morning in St. Mark’s—?

Miss T. The morning!  Why, Poppa and I saw the entire show I inside of ten minutes, before breakfast!

Culch. Ah! (Discouraged.) What do you say to studying the Vine and Fig-tree angles and the capitals of the arcades in the Ducal Palace?  I will go and fetch the Stones of Venice.

Miss T. I guess you can leave those old stones in peace.  I don’t feel like studying up anything this morning—­it’s as much as ever I can do not to scream aloud!

Culch. Then shall we just drift about in a gondola all the morning, and—­er—­perhaps do the Academy later?

Miss T. Not any canals in this hot sun for me!  I’d be just as sick!  That gondola will keep till it’s cooler.

Culch. (losing patience).  Then I must really leave it to you to make a suggestion!

Miss T. Well, I believe I’ll have a good look round the curiosity stores.  There’s ever such a cunning little shop back of the Clock Tower on the Pi-azza, where I saw some brocades that were just too sweet!  So I’ll take Poppa along bargain-hunting.  Don’t you come if you’d rather poke around your old churches and things!

Culch. I don’t feel disposed to—­er—­“poke around” alone; so, if you will allow me to accompany you,—­

Miss T. Oh, I’ll allow you to escort me.  It’s handy having someone around to carry parcels.  And Poppa’s bound to drop the balance every time!

Culch. (to himself).  That’s all I am to her.  A beast of burden!  And a whole precious morning squandered on this confounded shopping—­when I might have been—­ah, well! [Follows, under protest.

On the Grand Canal. 9 P.M.  A brilliant moonlight night; a music-barge, hung with coloured lanterns, is moving slowly up towards the Rialto, surrounded and followed by a fleet of gondolas, amongst which is one containing the TROTTERS and CULCHARD.  CULCHARD has just discovered—­with an embarrassment not wholly devoid of a certain excitement—­that they are drawing up to a gondola occupied by the PRENDERGASTS and PODBURY.

Mr. Trotter (meditatively).  It’s real romantic.  That’s the third deceased kitten I’ve seen to-night.  They haven’t only a two-foot tide in the Adriatic, and it stands to reason all the sewage—­

    [The two gondolas are jammed close alongside.

Miss P. How absolutely magical those palaces look in the moonlight!  BOB, how can you yawn like that?