too, that I had no way of finding out how much poppa knew, and extremely irritating to think that he knew anything.  He was sitting near me as I mused, immersed in the American mail, while momma and his Aunt Caroline insensibly glided towards intimacy again on two wicker chairs close by.  Mr. Mafferton was counting the luggage somewhere; he was never happy on a steamer until he had done that; and Isabel was being fervently apologised to by Dicky on the other side of the deck.  I hoped she was taking it in the proper spirit.  I had the terms all ready in which I should accept an apology, if it were ever offered to me.

[Illustration:  Fervent apologies.]

“Now, I must not put off any longer telling you how delighted I am at your dear Mamie’s re-engagement.”

The statement reached us all, though it was intended for momma only.  Even Mrs. Portheris’s more amiable accents had a quality which penetrated far, with a suggestion of whiskers.  I looked again languidly at Bellagio, but not until I had observed a rapid glance between my parents, recommending each other not to be taken by surprise.

“Has she confided in you?” inquired momma.

“No—­no.  I heard it in a roundabout way.  You must be very pleased, dear Augusta.  Such an advantage that they have known each other all their lives!”

Poppa looked guardedly round at me, but by this time I was asleep in my camp chair, the air was so balmily cool after our hot rattle to Como.

“How did you hear?” he demanded, coming straight to the point, while momma struggled after tentative uncertainties.

“Oh, a little bird, a little bird—­who had it from them both!  And much better, I said when I heard it, that she should marry one of her own country-people.  American girls nowadays will so often be content with nothing less than an Englishman!”

“So far as that goes,” said the Senator crisply, “we never buy anything we haven’t a use for, simply because it’s cheap.  But I don’t mind telling you that my daughter’s re-engagement, on the old American lines, is a thing I’ve been wanting to happen for some time.”

“And there are some really excellent points about Mr. Dod.  We must remember that he is still very young.  He has plenty of time to repair his fortunes.  Of one thing we may be sure,” continued Mrs. Portheris magnanimously, “he will make her a very kind husband.”

At this I opened my eyes inadvertently—­nobody could help it—­and saw the barometrical change in poppa’s countenance.  It went down twenty degrees with a run, and wore all the disgust of an hon. gentleman who has jumped to conclusions and found nothing to stand on.

“Oh, you’re away off there, Aunt Caroline,” he said with some annoyance.  “Better sell your little bird and buy a telephone.  Richard Dod is no more engaged to our daughter than the man in the moon.”

“Well, I should say not!” exclaimed momma.