My uncle had a fruit shop in South Water, a via which is
Chicago. Is it not so? You will find few in Taormina who can the English
speak, and none at all who can so perfectly speak it as Frascatti
Vietri."
"You are wonderful," said Patsy, delighted with him. But Uncle John
grew impatient to be off.
"I hate to interrupt you, Mr. Vietri," he hinted; "but if you can spare
the time we may as well make a start."
The driver consented. He gracefully swung the suit-cases and travelling
bags to the top of the vehicle and held the door open while his fares
entered. Then he mounted to his seat, took the reins, and spoke to the
horses. Some of the other drivers nodded at him cheerfully, but more as
if they were sorry he must exert himself than with any resentment at his
success in getting the only tourists who had alighted from the train.
As they moved away Uncle John said: "Observe the difference between the
cab-drivers here and those at home. In America they fight like beasts to
get a job; here they seem anxious to avoid earning an honest penny. If
there could be a happy medium somewhere, I'd like it."
"Are we going to the best hotel?" asked Louise, who had seemed a trifle
disconsolate because she had not seen Count Ferralti since leaving
Naples.
"I don't know, my dear. It wasn't a question of choice, but of
necessity.
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