"Then I must ask herself, and I shall do so to-day."
"I don't know," repeated Mrs. Ashe. "'She is a woman, therefore to be won:' and I don't think there is any one ahead of you; that is the best hope I have to offer, Ned.
Katy never talks of such things; and though she's so frank, I can't guess whether or not she ever thinks about them.
She likes you, however, I am sure of that.
But, Ned, it will not be wise to say anything to her yet."
"Not say anything?
Why not?"
"No.
Recollect that it is only a little while since she looked upon you as the admirer of another girl, and a girl she doesn't like very much, though they are cousins.
You must give her time to get over that impression.
Wait awhile; that's my advice, Ned."
"I'll wait any time if only she will say yes in the end.
But it's hard to go away without a word of hope, and it's more like a man to speak out, it seems to me."
"It's too soon," persisted his sister.
"You don't want her to think you a fickle fellow, falling in love with a fresh girl every time you go into port, and falling out again when the ship sails.
Sailors have a bad reputation for that sort of thing.
No woman cares to win a man like that."
"Great Scott!
I should think not!
Do you mean to say that is the way my conduct appears to her, Polly?"
"No, I don't mean just that; but wait, dear Ned, I am sure it is better."
Fortified by this sage counsel, Lieutenant Worthington went away next morning, without saying anything to Katy in words, though perhaps eyes and tones may have been less discreet.
He made them promise that some one should send a letter every day about Amy; and as Mrs. Ashe frequently devolved the writing of these bulletins upon Katy, and the replies came in the shape of long letters, she found herself conducting a pretty regular correspondence without quite intending it.
Ned Worthington wrote particularly nice letters.
He had the knack, more often found in women than men, of giving a picture with a few graphic touches, and indicating what was droll or what was characteristic with a single happy phrase.
His letters grew to be one of Katy's pleasures; and sometimes, as Mrs. Ashe watched the color deepen in her cheeks while she read, her heart would bound hopefully within her.
But she was a wise woman in her way, and she wanted Katy for a sister very much; so she never said a word or looked a look to startle or surprise her, but left the thing to work itself out, which is the best course always in love affairs.
Little Amy's improvement at Albano was something remarkable.
Mrs. Swift watched over her like a lynx. Her vigilance never relaxed.
Amy was made to eat and sleep and walk and rest with the regularity of a machine; and this exact system, combined with the good air, worked like a charm.
The little one gained hour by hour.
They could absolutely see her growing fat, her mother declared.
Fevers, when they do not kill, operate sometimes as spring bonfires do in gardens, burning up all the refuse and leaving the soil free for the growth of fairer things; and Amy promised in time to be only the better and stronger for her hard experience.
She had gained so much before the time came to start for Florence, that they scarcely dreaded the journey; but it proved worse than their expectations.
They had not been able to secure a carriage to themselves, and were obliged to share their compartment with two English ladies, and three Roman Catholic priests, one old, the others young.
The older priest seemed to be a person of some consequence; for quite a number of people came to see him off, and knelt for his blessing devoutly as the train moved away.
The younger ones Katy guessed to be seminary students under his charge.
Her chief amusement through the long dusty journey was in watching the terrible time that one of these young men was having with his own hat.
It was a large three-cornered black affair, with sharp angles and excessively stiff; and a perpetual struggle seemed to be going on between it and its owner, who was evidently unhappy when it was on his head and still more unhappy when it was anywhere else.
If he perched it on his knees it was sure to slide away from him and fall with a thump on the floor, whereupon he would pick it up, blushing furiously as he did so.
Then he would lay it on the seat when the train stopped at a station, and jump out with an air of relief; but he invariably forgot, and sat down upon it when he returned, and sprang up with a look of horror at the loud crackle it made; after which he would tuck it into the baggage-rack overhead, from which it would presently descend, generally into the lap of one of the staid English ladies, who would hand it back to him with an air of deep offence, remarking to her companion,—
"I never knew anything like it.
Fancy! that makes four times that hat has fallen on me.
The young man is a feedgit!
He's the most feegitty creature I ever saw in my life."
The young seminariat did not understand a word she said; but the tone needed no interpreter, and set him to blushing more painfully than ever.
Altogether, the hat was never off his mind for a moment.
Katy could see that he was thinking about it, even when he was thumbing his Breviary and making believe to read.
At last the train, steaming down the valley of the Arno, revealed fair Florence sitting among olive-clad hills, with Giotto's beautiful Bell-tower, and the great, many-colored, soft-hued Cathedral, and the square tower of the old Palace, and the quaint bridges over the river, looking exactly as they do in the photographs; and Katy would have felt delighted, in spite of dust and fatigue, had not Amy looked so worn out and exhausted.
They were seriously troubled about her, and for the moment could think of nothing else.