OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 

 was sent flying round the corner to fetch a friend who, by 

 tfle grace of God, had the gift of tongues. 

 Breathless, he returned, with a bundle of rags hobbling 

 along on a crutch, by his side. 



" Benissimo ! " exclaimed the doratore, with a sigh of relief. 

 "This gentleman, signora, is a friend of all the artists in 

 Rome! He knows English, French, German every- 

 thing!" 



He then performed the ceremonious rites of introduction ! 

 "Signor Guiseppi Renzo, a person of great worth and 

 learning.The noble lady belonging to the family of my 

 cherished patrons, i Castelli." 



The bundle of rags swept off its battered hat with a flourish, 

 disclosing a wall-eye and a three-weeks-old beard, and 

 remarked, in Italian, that the weather was beautiful for the 

 time of the year. 



"But not so beautiful as in spring/ 7 said the doratore 

 encouragingly. Upon which Loki's aunt bowed too, and 

 smiled and murmured, "Oh! si, si' I mean no." And 

 then feeling dreadfully uncouth and ill-mannered in presence 

 of so much courtesy, picked up her frame again and looked 

 helpless. Instantly the interpreter warmed to his office. 

 In fluent if curious English, he ascertained her wishes, and 

 then communicated them with much gesticulation to the 

 doratore, who slapped a fat forehead, exclaiming in a 

 contrite manner, " Va bene, va bene I " Finally, the imp 

 was dispatched on a last errand in search of a little open 

 carriage, and having carefully wrapped the frame in a 

 copy of the " Corner e" produced from his own pocket, 

 the bundle of rags hobbled out into the Piazza, where 

 he and the doratore stood bareheaded to wish the 

 26 



