The loss amounts to nothing to either of us, and such treachery,
thank goodness, is rare in the world. We can't afford to let the thing
make us unhappy, my friends; so cheer up, all of you, and don't dwell
upon it any more than you can help."
They left Syracuse a rather solemn group, in spite of this wise advice,
and journeyed back to Naples and thence to Rome. There was much to see
here, and they saw it so energetically that when they boarded the train
for Florence they were all fagged out and could remember nothing clearly
except the Coliseum and the Baths of Carracalla.
Florence was just now a bower of roses and very beautiful. But Kenneth
lugged them to the galleries day after day until Uncle John declared he
hated to look an "old master" in the face.
"After all, they're only daubs," he declared. "Any ten-year-old boy in
America can paint better pictures."
"Don't let anyone hear you say that, dear," cautioned Patsy. "They'd
think you don't know good art."
"But I do," he protested. "If any of those pictures by old masters was
used in a street-car 'ad' at home it would be money wasted, for no one
would look at them. The people wouldn't stand for it a minute."
"They are wonderful for the age in which they were painted," said
Kenneth, soberly. "You must remember that we have had centuries in which
to improve our art, since then.
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