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 Solution Manual for Problem Solving and
Programming Concepts, 9/E 9th Edition
Maureen Sprankle, Jim Hubbard
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Unit 1: Introduction to Problem Solving and Programming

Unit 1 is designed to introduce the student to problem solving skills and basic programming concepts required
for the rest of the book. These concepts include the steps used in problem solving and numerical con- cepts such as
constants and variables, data types, operators, hierarchy of operations, expressions, and equa- tions. Chapter 3
introduces the problem solving tools used in the book, which include
1. The Problem Analysis Chart (PAC)
2. The Interactivity Chart (Structure Chart)
3. The IPO Chart
4. The Algorithms
5. The Flowcharts
When the students have completed these three chapters, they are ready to learn about the four logic
structures presented in Unit 2.

Some Teaching Suggestions

Beginning problem solving students learn problems solving skills faster and with less frustration when
working with one or two other people. The old adage “two heads are better then one” really is true for these
students. Working in groups about once a week helps to cement the concepts presented in class. A problem
presented to the class and solved in a group allows the students to go through the thinking process with the help of
other students. Students working in study groups outside of class also helps. Students who work to- gether are, for
the most part, the most successful in learning problem solving skills.
The “jigsaw” method of group learning also works very well with beginning problem solving students. This can
be fun for the students, along with a change in the regular methods of learning. This method allows a stu- dent
“expert” to teach a concept to a peer group. The steps to complete this exercise are:
1. Divide the lesson to be learned into categories or concepts—one category for each “Expert Group”.
2. Divide the class into as many groups as the are expert categories.
3. Give each group a category. These groups become the Expert Groups. The students learn their
category as thoroughly as possible.
4. Peer groups are then formed by taking one person from each of the Expert Groups to form a Peer
Group.
5. Each person in the Peer Group teaches the rest of the group about their category.
6. Each person then takes a test over the categories, and the Peer Group which has the highest average
score wins.
Students differ in the way they look at designing a solution to a problem. Some have to look at the whole problem
and then break the solution into parts or modules. Other students need to look at the individual types of modules
before putting them together for the total solution. It is important to present a solution in both ways. One way to do this

5
is to present the whole solution, break the whole into modules, discuss the modules, and then put the modules back
together again.

5
6
 Chapter 1: General Problem Solving Concepts
Students need to realize that problem solving skills are used in everyday life as well as with a computer. Since the
students are familiar with everyday problems, the course should start by identifying and developing solu- tions to these
problems using the six problem solving steps. These everyday problems deal with people since they have a broad and
expandable knowledge base. Problem Two at the end of the chapter presents some problems which the student can
develop a solution and then check with another student. Though the use of Otto the Robot in Appendix A, the students
can relate these same problem solving steps using a limited knowledge base. Associ- ated with the nstructor's Manual
you will ¿nd a simulator for OTTO the Robot. The solutions to these problems can be developed and tested in groups. This
should lead to the fact that all work on a computer deals with a limited knowledge base.

Lecture Outline
I. Introduction to class
II. Six steps in problems solving:
A. Identify the problem
B. Understand the problem
C. Identify alternative ways to solve the problem
D. Select the best way to solve the problem
E. List instructions that enable you to solve the problems using the selected solution
F. Evaluate the solution
III. Types of problems:
A. Algorithmic
B. Heuristic
IV. Problem solving with other humans vs problem solving with computers
A. Terminology
1. solution
2. results
3. program
B. Why do we as humans have problems with problem solving?
C. Use one of the tasks in problem one to illustrate problem solving with another English speaking
human. The students should write the set of instructions and then test the instructions in a
group situation.
D. Use Appendix A with Otto the Robot to narrow the vocabulary and move into problem solving with
computers. Associated with the Instructor's Manual you will ¿nd a simulator for OTTO the Robot. You
may want to use it to demonstrate how Otto works and/or you may want to have the students test
some of the instructions and try out their solutions to see if they work. You will need to install the
program on your computer and/or the student's computers.

7
 Solutions to Questions and Problems
Questions:
1. See page 3-4 in text.

2. An Algorithmic solution is a series of direct actions taken to solve a problem.

3. Each student will have different answers. Some typical answers are:
a. balancing a checkbook
b. putting a bicycle together
c. baking a cake

4. A HEURISTIC solution to a problem requires knowledge, experience, trial and error.

5. Each student will have different answers. Some typical answers are:
a. raising a child
b. making money on the stock market
c. creating a compromise

6. Each student will have different answers. Some typical answers are:
a. Financial planning
b. Address book
c. Writing reports

7. See section on Problem Solving Steps.

Problems:
1. Each student’s answer will be different according to the problem they selected. Correct the problem ac-
cording to what should be contained in each step.

2. Each student’s answer may be a modi¿cation of these solutions. The main thing to look for is the correla- tion
between the knowledge base and the instructions. There are certain assumptions the student may make,
such as the language spoken. These are excellent problems for students to develop in a group.
a. Make a cup of cocoa:
Knowledge Base: cup, milk, cocoa mix, spoon, microwave, how to pour liquid into a cup
Instructions:
1.) open cocoa mix
2.) pour cocoa mix into a cup
3.) ¿ll cup with milk to 1 inch of top
4.) stir with spoon until dissolved
5.) heat in microwave for 2 minutes

b. Sharpen a pencil.
Knowledge base: pencil, pencil sharpener, sharp point, turn a handle
Instructions:
1.) go to a pencil sharpener
2.) put unsharpened end of the pencil in the hole in the side or top of pencil sharpener
3.) turn handle
4.) check to see if the pencil has a sharp point every 5 turns
5.) remove pencil and use

c. Walk from the classroom to the student lounge, your dorm, or the cafeteria.
This problem will have a different solution, depending upon the campus where the student attends
classes.

8
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and I respond for him. He will be so condescending as to take a situation;
he will interpret like me; he will make the Italian into the English, and the
English into the Italian.”
“But how can I do that?” said Harry, “when I don’t understand one word
of your lingo? I can’t do that.”
Paolo’s countenance lengthened once more; but he speedily recovered
himself.
“That will teach itself,” he said. “I will talk; I will tell you everything.
Aspetto! there is now, presently, incessantly—an occasion. Komm, komm
along; something strikes me in the head. But silence, the Vice-Consul, he it
is that will settle all.”
Harry did not think much of Paolo’s recommendation; but yet the idea of
appealing to the Vice-Consul was worth consideration. The thought of an
Englishman to whom he could tell his story—or if not his story, yet a story,
something which would seem as an account of himself—was like a rope
thrown out to him amid a waste of waters. And, as an Englishman, he would
have a right to be listened to. English officials are not like American, the
natural vassals of their countrymen; but still, when a man is at his wit’s end,
there is something in the idea that a person of authority, in whom he has a
vested interest, is within reach, which is consolatory. To be introduced to
this functionary, however, by Paolo, whose position did not seem to be very
important, did not please Harry’s pride. He sent the little fellow away with a
vague promise of thinking of it, which disappointed the friendly little man.
Paolo could not restrain his anxious desire to be of use. He went off to the
Farmacia to buy soap and tooth-powder for his amico, and even proposed to
fetch him the little bicchierino of acquavite, with which some people begin
their day, a proposal which filled Harry with horror. Paolo put his dressing-
table in order with the care of a woman, and lingered, anxious to do
something more. He would have brushed his friend’s clothes, if Harry
would have let him. He was proud of his new discovery, the big
Englishman, whom he had secured to himself, and whom he admired in
proportion to his own smallness and inconsiderableness. Something of the
pleasure of a nurse with an infant, and of a child with a new toy, was in his
bustling anxious delight. When at last, however, he was half forced, half
persuaded to go away, Paolo made a few steps back from the door and held
up a warning finger.
 “Mister Isaack mio,” he said, “one must not any more knock down. It is
not understood in Livorno. That which can well do itself in England is
different: here—it is not understood.” His face had become very grave, then
a deprecatory smile of apology broke over it. “In Italy they are in many
things behind,” he said. “It is not—understood.”
“Don’t be afraid, Paul-o,” said Harry, laughing, “I shan’t knock down
anyone to-day. Even in England we don’t do it but when it is necessary. You
may trust me, I shall knock nobody down to-day.”
“Alright, alright!” said Paolo, with a beaming countenance. He turned
back again to instruct his friend at what hour it would be best to come to the
bureau. “I will speak, and you shall be expected. I will respond for you,”
the little man said.
At last he went away full of amiable intentions and zeal in his friend’s
cause, zeal which deserved a better reward. For Harry did not build much
upon the influence of Paolo. It hurt his pride to think of presenting himself
anywhere under the wing of this little Italian clerk. He would stand upon his
own qualities, he said to himself, not upon the ready faith and rash
undertaking of a stranger; but though he put it in this way, it was not in
reality because he objected to Paolo’s trust in him, or thought it rash as
another man might have done, but because he felt himself Paolo’s social
superior. It would be hard to say on what this consciousness was founded.
Harry’s only superiority had been his family, and that he had put away. As
he was dressing, he turned over a great many things in his mind which he
might say to the Vice-Consul. Few young people understand how much
better policy it is in all such cases to speak the truth than to invent the most
plausible of stories, and Harry was not wiser than his kind. He made up
various fictions about himself explaining how it was that he thus presented
himself alone and unfriended in an altogether strange place—all of which
he would have stated with a faltering tongue and abashed countenance, so
as to impress the falsehood of them upon the hearer; for to invent excuses is
one thing, and to produce them with force and consistency another.
Successful lying, like everything else, wants practice; few men can succeed
in it who only do it once in a way. It requires study, and careful
consideration of probabilities, so that the artist shall not be put entirely out
by an unforeseen question: and it needs an excellent memory, to retain all
that has been said, so as not to contradict previous statements. Harry
possessed none of these qualities, but then he was not aware of the want of
them; and the thing which made him depart from tale after tale was not any
suspicion of their weakness, or his weakness, but an inability to please
himself in the details of his romance. And then the thought of going as it
were hat in hand, to ask the Consul to provide him with employment, and
the inevitable starting forth of little Paolo to pledge himself for everything
his friend might say, discouraged him. He grew downhearted as he put
himself into the best apparel he had, and brushed his hair, and endeavoured
to look his best. Would it not be better to start off again, to go, though he
had made up his mind against it, to America after all? There, there would be
no language to learn, no difficulty in understanding what was said to him.
He went down and swallowed his breakfast, coffee and bread, which
seemed to him the most wretched fare, turning this over in his mind. But for
one thing he did not like to be beaten; no Englishman does, he said to
himself; and Harry was of the primitive, simple kind of Englishman who
clings to all national characteristics. He could not bear to be beaten, to
contradict himself as it were, and depart from his plan. While he was
thinking of all this, however, a brilliant expedient occurred to him. Though
he was reluctant to tell his own story, he was not disposed to screen himself
by any fiction of excuses from the consequences of anything he had done;
and it was undeniable that he had “got into a row” on the previous night. No
Englishman, he reflected, would think the worse of a young fellow who had
knocked down a drunken sailor to prevent him from molesting a woman;
but it would be as well to go and tell the story of this little incident in case
of any ulterior proceedings. Harry fairly chuckled over his own wisdom in
hitting upon so admirable a way of presenting himself to the representative
of his country. He had never before felt himself so clever. He munched his
dry bread and drank his coffee with a wry face, but something like a mental
relish at least. Little Paolo’s friendly conscience would not need to be
strained. He would be able to bear witness of the facts in all sincerity, and,
if anything were to come of it, there would be at least a friend in court, a
valuable advocate secured. Antonio, the waiter, drew near while Harry came
to this conclusion, and watched him dispatching his simple refreshment
with friendly looks. The Italians admired the young Englishman’s fine
limbs, and height and strength, and they made a pet of him because he was
a stranger and helpless; perhaps the waiter was not without an eye to
substantial rewards, but he had at the same time a most friendly eye to
Harry’s helplessness, and an amiable desire to make him comfortable. He
stood and watched him eating with sympathy.
“Ze gentleman would like an egg, perhaps, Sarr?” he said.
“I should like half-a-dozen,” said Harry with a sigh; “but no, no, never
mind—never mind; for the present this will do.”
“Ze gentlemen Italian eat no breakfast,” said Antonio; “ze eat—after; but
I will command for ze English gentleman, if it makes pleasure to him, ze
English breakfast. There is already one here.”
“One—breakfast!” said Harry, surprised.
“One,” said Antonio, with a finger in the air, “English-man, and two tree
Americans; ze eat of ze beef in ze early morning. It is extraordinary: eat of
ze beef when you comes out of your bed. But it is the same—it is the same;
that makes nothing to our padrone; and I will command it for ze gentleman
if he will.”
“I wish you would,” said Harry, “another time; dry bread is not much to
breakfast upon: and the bread is very queer stuff.”
“It is good bread,” said Antonio, “Sarr, very good bread; bettare far than
ze bread of London;” he nodded his head as he spoke with self-satisfaction.
“Ze gentleman would like me go wid him—show him all ze places, and ze
grand catedral, and all that ze English gentleman go over ze world to see?”
“No, Antonio; I don’t care about cathedrals, but you can come with me
to the English Consul’s if you like, and show me the way.”
“I like very moche, Sarr,” said Antonio, with a grin. “Ze English
gentlemans please me. Zey is astonished at everyting. Ze pictures—O!
bellissimi! and ze palazzi, and ze churches. It is noting but O! and O! as
long as zey are walking about. But, Sarr,” said Antonio, coming closer,
“Livorno is not moche. It is a city of trade. Com to Firenze, Sarr, if you
would see beautiful pictures and beautiful houses. Ah! that is something to
see. Or to Venezia—better still. I am of Venezia, Sarr. Ze gentleman will not
say to Signor Paolo that I tell him so, but Livorno—pouff!” Antonio blew it
away in a puff of disdain. “Firenze and Venezia, there is where you will see
pictures—everyware—of Raphael and Michael Angelo, and Tiziano, and
——”
“I don’t care much about pictures,” said Harry, calmly. “I like the
shipping better. You can take me to the docks if you like. I don’t want you
to tell me about them. I like to see things I know about myself. But I tell
you what, Antonio, you may teach me the names in Italian, if you like; that
will always be making a little progress,” Harry said, suddenly bethinking
himself of Paolo’s suggestion.
Antonio’s face had lengthened by several inches. An English gentleman
who did not want to see pictures was a personage of whom he had no
understanding. He began to think that Harry was not a genuine Englishman
after all.
“Ze signor is perhaps Tedesco—no? Or Americain—no? I have known
many English,” said Antonio, gravely, “but zey all run after ze pictures. Ze
gentleman is what you call an original. Benissimo! that makes noting to me.
Ze sheeps in ze harbour are very fine sheeps. You will not see no bettare—
no, not in England. Ze signor wishes—eh?—perhaps to make observations,
to let ze Government—ze ministers know, Italy is now a great country, and
ze others are jealous. You fear we will take ze trade all away?”
“Not so bad as that, Antonio,” said Harry, with a great laugh. “Where I
have come from I wish I could show you the docks; they are about ten times
as big as these.”
Antonio grinned from ear to ear. He did not believe a word of what
Harry said. “If it pleases to ze gentleman,” he said, laughing too. He was
perfectly tolerant of the joke, and glad to see his protegé cheerful. Then
Harry jumped up from the table, poorly sustained for the business he had in
hand by his light meal, but somewhat anxious to get through the ordeal he
had proposed to himself. Antonio, however, who appeared presently in the
well-worn and assiduously brushed costume of a laquais de place, could
not quite let him off the inevitable sightseeing. He led him to the Duomo
and into the great Square with a pretence that this was on the way to the
Consul’s office, and made him look at again, whether he would or not, the
same public buildings which he had gazed at dreamily as he wandered
about the streets the day before, and looked at languidly in the moonlight
under Paolo’s active guidance. He had been but twenty-four hours in
Leghorn, and already he had associations with the street-corners, which
probably he would never forget. Already this new world was acquiring
known features of acquaintanceship; his life beginning to put forth threads
like a spider’s web, and twist and twine, the new with the old. It startled
Harry to feel that he was no longer a stranger here, where he had landed so
forlorn. After the round which Antonio beguiled him into making, it was
about eleven o’clock before they reached the door over which the well-
known British symbol was put up. The outer office was full of people and
business, sea-captains and merchants’ clerks, and even a few examples of
the kind of traveller who is most common in Italy, he who travels for
pleasure and not for business. Harry had to wait among the rest who were
seeking an audience of the Vice-Consul. Here Antonio left him, and he
could not see anything like the olive-countenance and brilliant costume of
Paolo; but it was an English group among which he stood. The clerks even
spoke English, if one or two of them displayed the tongue-tied hesitation
which is common to all classes when they speak a language imperfectly
understood. One of the tourists did his best to draw Harry into conversation,
lamenting the cruel fate which had detained him in such a place. He was
just starting for Pisa, this pilgrim said, where there was really something to
see. “One might as well be in Liverpool as here,” he said. Harry did not
make any reply. This was just the reason why he himself approved of
Leghorn more than of any other place he had seen. When it came to his turn
at last, almost all the other appellants and petitioners had been seen and
dismissed. They all wanted something; and Harry’s new acquaintance had
talked and worried him so much with his dislike to a place where there was
so little to see, that he had almost forgot the manner in which he had
arranged with himself to open his own story; when at length everybody else
was despatched, and he had to go forward to his audience. His heart beat a
little faster as he went in. The Vice-Consul was a man of a portly presence,
something like an English merchant of the higher class, with grizzled hair,
and an aspect of great respectability and authority. He was fully conscious
of his dignity as the representative of the British Government, and of Her
Majesty herself, amid an alien and inferior race. He did not think much of
Italy or the Italian people, and he felt it was his mission in life to keep them
down. He was seated in great state upon a large chair, which swung round
with him when he moved. His table, his papers, the manner in which he
appeared over them, with the air of a judge on the bench, was very
imposing to a stranger, especially when that stranger was in difficulty and
came to ask help. He made Harry a very formal bow, and pointed to a seat
near, which had something of the air of a seat for the prisoner at the bar.
“What can I do for you?” he said, with a dignified inclination of his
head; after the first glance his look softened. He was used to see a great
many people, and it was a compliment to Harry’s appearance that it
interested the Vice-Consul. He almost smiled upon him, with a benignity in
which he did not very often indulge.
Then it was that Harry’s real difficulties began; but how thankful he was
that it was a true story he was telling, and not a fictitious account of
himself!
“I came to tell you, Sir,” he said, “of something that occurred last night
—a scrape—that is to say a row I got into. I suppose I must call it a row.”
“It is a great pity when strangers get into rows in a foreign town, Mr.
——Oliver. I think you said Oliver?”
What a fool I was thought Harry!—as he did after every new production
of that name; but his last chance of reclaiming his own was now over.
“What you say is quite true,” he said, “and I should not have been such a
fool but for urgent cause. I knocked down a fellow who was annoying a
lady. He deserved a great deal more than I gave him; if he had been an
Italian I might have hesitated, but he was an Englishman. So I just knocked
him down.”
“Very wrong, very wrong,” said the Vice-Consul, “and a curious way of
showing your preference for your fellow-countrymen. But you had better
tell me all about it. When did this occur, and where?”
Harry described the place as well as he could. “There was a lot of them,”
he said. “The Italians—if they were Italians—gave way when I spoke to
them. I’ll do them that justice. The English fellow, I did not say anything to
him. I was not going to argue with a brute like that. I just quietly knocked
him down. It was a young lady and a woman with her. You see, if I had
stood there talking, the others might have been up to us, and have given her
more annoyance. I daresay it did not hurt the fellow much; and if he’s a
man he’ll take it quietly, for he deserved it; but I thought it was perhaps best
to let you know.”
The Vice-Consul had started slightly when Harry described, as well as he
could, the locality in which this incident took place. Now he asked quickly,
“And the lady—did you know her? and did she get clean away?”
“Know her!” said Harry, “I only arrived here yesterday; besides I did not
want to know her: it might not have been pleasant for her. We watched her
safe out of reach; indeed we went on till we heard a door shut where she
lived, I suppose. No, it was not for that. It was to say that if the fellow
complained, or brought any action, or anything of that sort—I wanted you,
Sir, being the representative of England, to know the real facts. That is how
it was.”
There was a smile about the Vice-Consul’s mouth. “As it happens I have
heard about it already,” he said. “I’ll speak to you farther on the subject by-
and-bye—Don’t be alarmed, it will do you no harm; sit down and rest
yourself, and wait for a few minutes. I am going in to lunch presently, and
I’ll talk to you then,” the Vice-Consul said. Harry did not know what to
think. The consequences could not be very bad, since this great functionary
restrained a smile; but there was evidently a second chapter to the
adventure. Harry withdrew as he was directed to the other end of the office,
and there stood gazing at railway timetables, and pictures of ships. There
was all about a line of vessels to America from Genoa which had lately
been established, just the very thing for him if he intended to do what he
had been thinking of. But Harry scarcely knew what he was looking at. All
these questions seemed things of the past. What was the Vice-Consul going
to say to him? What was to come of it? Till he knew this he could not think
of anything else.
 CHAPTER IV.

THE VICE-CONSUL’S DAUGHTER.

A DOOR in the Vice-Consul’s office opened into a long passage with a

row of windows on one side, which communicated with his house.
When the hour came at which, after the comfortable fashion of
leisurely Italian towns, the office was shut up for the midday meal, the Vice
Consul made Harry an amiable sign to follow. He led him through this
passage, which looked upon a courtyard full of plants, where a fountain
trickled in the sunshine, into a large cool room with all its jalousies closed,
and in which for a minute or two he saw nothing. He was being introduced
into a sort of enchanted country it seemed, unlike anything he had ever
known or thought of; the tiled floor was almost covered with soft rugs,
according to a fashion not then known in England, and the furniture dimly
discerned in the gloom, was like rocks at sea to the stranger who had no
chart of the confused and intricate passage. Something white in a corner,
something which moved a little when they came in, was all he saw, and he
could not make out even what that was till his eyes had got accustomed to
the light. Then he perceived with a great tremor and shock of shyness that it
was a lady, a slight girl in a white dress who looked up to nod to her father,
then seeing a second figure behind him, rose hastily with a shy grace. Harry
was still more shy than she was. He was not accustomed to the society of
ladies. And he was dreadfully hungry, having had nothing but that dry bread
and coffee, a circumstance which made him still more depressed and timid.
He did not at all know why he was introduced so suddenly into this other
world. He thought he was only going to an inner office, or perhaps—but
that was a blessedness he dared scarcely hope for—that the Consul in his
kindness had meant to give him some luncheon. But the drawing-room
confused him wholly; he had done nothing to merit such an introduction.
He only half took in accordingly the meaning of the words the Consul said,
“Look here, Rita, I have brought your champion of last night.”
“Oh!” That purely English exclamation sounded to Harry the sweetest
syllable he had ever heard. The white figure came a step forward. By this
time he began to see through the gloom, and what he saw was a very young
face, with two great dark eyes, lifted to him full of wonder and pleasure.
Then a hand was put out, “Was it you?” she said eagerly. “Oh, yes, I
remember!” And before he was aware the hand, smaller and softer than any
such article previously known to him, touched his for a moment. Harry
dropped into the chair which the Vice-Consul pointed to him in utter
confusion of surprise. He was not even able to notice what an extraordinary
advantage to him such an introduction was. He was simply astonished more
than words could say.
“This is Mr. Oliver,” said the Vice-Consul. “He came and told me all
about it without a notion who you were. And you see how surprised he is.
He thought, I suppose, I was taking him into a kind of genteel prison. It
must be added that, if you only arrived yesterday, you lost no time in
getting into a row.”
“Did you only arrive yesterday?” said the delightful little voice, in which
there was a flavour of something not English, though the English was
perfect. “Oh, how glad I am that you did arrive then! What would have
become of us otherwise? for no one but an Englishman wandering about the
most unlikely places could ever have found himself just there.”
“And nobody but an English girl would have risked herself in such a
place,” said the father. “I hope you will take that to heart, my dear. This
girl,” he added, turning to the young man, “is by way of despising all Italian
precautions. She is an English girl, she tells everybody, and she will not be
a slave like the others: and old Benedetta is an old fool and never goes
against her. One of her pensioners was ill last night, that was why the
monkey was out at such an hour. When I am at the Club there is nobody to
put her to bed.”
“As if I was a little child to be put to bed! It was the dearest old woman,
and she would see me. The priest had been sent for and the sacraments;
could I refuse to go—now could I? And how was I to know men were so
dreadful? But you see, papa, there are always the good angels about.”
“When I was young the angels were all feminine,” the Vice-Consul said,
“and we called the ladies by these pretty names, not the ladies us.”
“Perhaps you never did so much for any girl. Oh, how frightened I was
when that man took hold of my arm! and then to hear an English voice as if
it were coming from the skies, ‘Let go that girl!’ ”
 “How did the fellow understand, I wonder?” the Vice-Consul said.
“If I had not been so frightened I should have laughed. They did not
understand a bit! It might just as well have been Greek; but if it had been
Greek they would have understood,” cried Rita, putting her hands together
with grateful enthusiasm. All this time Harry had never spoken a word;
indeed, there had been no opening for him to speak.
“You must have thought me a big idiot to say anything at all,” he said.
“Oh! I thought you—— I won’t tell you what, or papa will say
something disagreeable. It was so grand the English voice; and then their
hands dropped as if I had been fire.”
“I should have broken every bone in their bodies,” cried Harry, with
unnecessary fervour, “if I had known it was you they touched with their
filthy fingers!” He did not know why he made this violent speech, which
was far from elegant, and quite unsuitable to the refined and still
atmosphere in which he so unexpectedly found himself. As for Rita she
blushed a little, and laughed a little, in the soft green twilight, finding it not
unnatural that he should have been doubly indignant at the idea that it was
she who was in danger. She was accustomed to believe that anything
disagreeable was doubly offensive when it happened to her, and that she
was about the most important little person in the world. But she was one of
the rare people whom such a knowledge does not spoil. It seemed to her
quite simple—was not she her father’s only child, and only pleasure in life?
She had been aware of this fact ever since she was born.
“Hush, hush!” said the Vice-Consul; “we must have nothing more about
breaking bones: to knock down one fellow was quite enough. But I am very
much obliged to you, Oliver. I can’t make a stranger of you after this. My
little girl is all I have in the world, and whoever is good to her is good to
me. If you are going to stay in Leghorn, I hope you’ll let me be of some use
to you; but I don’t suppose that’s very likely. Meantime, Rita, don’t you
think we had better go to lunch?”
What welcome words these were to Harry! He was excited and pleased
by the adventure altogether; his head was a little turned by the enthusiasm
of gratitude with which he was received, and the atmosphere around this
young creature, who was a kind of mystic half revelation to him. He had not
yet made out her face quite distinctly, and yet he was admitted to all the
privileges of friendship: the strange sensation intoxicated him. But yet when
her father spoke of lunch, all that went out of his head. Consider that he had
eaten nothing but about half a yard of tasteless bread that day! and it was
one o’clock. But Harry was not without manners; though the pangs of
appetite made him faint, he got up politely and made a pretence at taking
leave. Needless to say that the Vice-Consul was above taking advantage of
his position, “No, no, no; we are going to keep you to luncheon,” he said,
with a bonhomie which was irresistible. Harry thought him the most
delightful person in the world, only a little less delightful than the other
unknown being who made him feel tremulous and abashed, though so
happy. The dining-room was lighted from the shady side of the courtyard,
and there was accordingly light enough to see by. The meal was not a
foreign breakfast, but an English luncheon of a substantial kind, and it is
safe to say that Harry had never been so happy in his life as when he had
taken off the first fierce edge of appetite, and had begun to be able to enjoy
the novelty and yet the familiarity of this unexpected scene. Mr. Bonamy
(which was the name of the Vice-Consul) without laying aside the dignity
as of a benevolent prince which was so remarkable in him, showed all the
condescension of a thoroughly amiable potentate; and Rita was—— Rita
was something of which Harry had no previous conception. She was about
sixteen—no more. Her face was the face of a child, but lighted up by two
beautiful large eyes which she had got from her Italian mother. She knew,
or seemed to know, everything her father knew, and was used to be talked to
about all that happened. If it were not Joan putting in her word occasionally
in a long discussion when her interference was seldom received but with
either blame or contempt, Harry had never been accustomed to women who
took any share in the conversation going on; and to hear this child talk
bewildered him. She had a slight girlish figure, a small face almost without
colour, the faint sweet flesh tints of which were thrown up in the most
delicate distinctness by the white of her dress. She seemed all spirit, all life,
a creature made of air and sunshine rather than flesh and blood to Harry.
And about himself there was so much flesh and blood! He listened to the
conversation rather than joined in it, feeling himself an admiring audience
rather than a partaker in their talk. One thing only he felt moved to say, and
that was about his own appetite, which he feared they would think
preposterous. “I feel more like a wolf than a man,” he said. “I hope you
won’t think I’m always like this. I never was abroad before, and I don’t
know the ways. And I had no breakfast but some of their queer bread. This
bread is delightful,” Harry said, with enthusiasm. The father and the
daughter were delighted with him, appetite and all.
“I am so glad you never were abroad before,” said Rita; “now one sees
exactly what England is like. Oh, yes, papa, you need not laugh. I see the
English green, and the trees waving, and the winds blowing, all in Mr.
Oliver’s face. And there is a little sound of the sea, and a shadow of hills—
not big mountains, but nice, kind hills with sheep-bells tinkling——”
“We have not many sheep-bells, Miss Bonamy, in my country,” said
Harry; “the hills are more grey than green, and there is a great deal of fog in
the winter, and east wind, and rain——”
“Oh, don’t tell me about the bad things, tell me about what is pleasant,”
said Rita. “The east wind is not so bad as the scirocco, and the rain is
delightful. I know all about that. As for the fog, the painters say it is more
picturesque than anything. They say there is always a soft delicious sort of
haze, and you never see things sharp cut out against the sky as they look
here.”
“Have you never been in England?” Harry said, with a little surprise; and
then he saw that a shade, a sort of cloud, come over the lively table, and the
two animated faces. Rita shook her head, and then began to talk quickly to
him about the neighbourhood, and all he would have to see. Harry had
protested to his humble friends that he wanted to see nothing but the
shipping, but he did not repeat this sentiment here. He learned in a moment
that to be fond of pictures was a necessity, and that there were certain things
which every Englishman in Italy had come expressly to worship. Rita’s
opinion “of course” convinced him in a moment. He never made the
slightest stand against it. Henceforward he knew what was expected of him.
When she went out of the room waving her fingers to him in sign of
goodbye, Harry suddenly became quite grave, and felt all at once as if the
light had gone out of the sky. And there was more than sentiment in this
feeling; for now he found himself face to face with the Vice-Consul, and it
was very evident that, so much having passed between them, something
more would now have to be said. Mr. Bonamy offered the young man a
cigar, and, lighting his own, leant back in his chair, and evidently awaited
some further disclosures of his mind and purpose.
“You are thinking of staying in Leghorn,” he said.
 “I am thinking,” said Harry, feeling his colour rise, “of trying to get
employment, if I can; a situation of some kind.”
“Employment!” said the Vice-Consul. It was impossible to deny that he
was disappointed. His voice had an accent which there was no mistaking.
Harry had not much refinement or education, but he had an air which would
have been perfectly consistent with the rank of a young squire, an English
country gentleman of simple mind, and no great amount of culture,
travelling for his pleasure, and perhaps with some vague idea of
improvement. Mr. Bonamy, who had received him so cordially, and who
had been pleased to be under an obligation to a young fellow of attractive
appearance and pleasant manners, was more cast down by this intimation
than might have been thought possible. Not a young squire: nobody in
particular: a penniless youth seeking employment. Such visitors were not
rare, but they seldom penetrated into the carefully-guarded interior of the
Vice-Consul’s house.
Harry felt very much abashed. He was sensible of the downfall. How he
longed to produce the glories of the Joscelyns, and convince his hearer that,
if he was humble now, his family had once sat with princes! Perhaps Mr.
Bonamy might not have been so impressed by these ancestors as Harry
thought; but as it was they looked at each other blankly, mutually feeling
that a great fall had taken place. Harry smiled in that rigid way which is
popularly called smiling at the wrong side of the face.
“Yes,” he said, “employment. I don’t know that I am very good for
anything: but I have some little acquaintance with—business.”
This was worse and worse. Had he been possessed of a knowledge of
law business, or military drill, or anything likely to be of no real use to him,
the situation might have improved. But business! book-keeping, and that
sort of thing! no doubt he was a mere clerk after all.
“You have recommendations, I suppose, from your last employers,” Mr.
Bonamy said, coldly. “I shall be glad if I can be of any use, but——”
“To tell the truth,” said Harry—he was seized with an outburst of
frankness, feeling a kind of desperation seize him at sight of this cold
withdrawal of the sudden friendship which had made him so happy for the
moment—“to tell the truth I have no recommendations. If anyone will be
kind to me they must take me at my own word. All I have got to say for
myself is that I have quarrelled with my family. I cannot enter into the
question now. I have done it, and that is all I can say; and here I am, and I
must get employment. I am not going to push myself into your
acquaintance, Sir. It was an accident, nothing more than an accident; and
probably you thought me a person of more importance——”
“Importance or not has nothing to do with it,” said the Vice-Consul; and
again his countenance softened. A young man who has quarrelled with his
family is no doubt a person to be lectured and reproved, and brought back
to a sense of duty, but all the same he is quite different from a commonplace
clerk seeking a situation. Harry did not intend to throw any halo of
distinction over his own humble person, but he did it unawares. Mr.
Bonamy’s countenance gradually cleared. “My dear young fellow,” he said,
“I daresay you are impulsive and hot-headed, like so many other young
men. As being under obligations to you, I may allow myself to give you
good advice. No advantage ever springs from family quarrels. My advice to
you is, make it up.”
“Not for anything in the world,” said Harry, hotly. “I have been treated—
I can’t say how I have been treated. I will neither make it up, nor will I go
near them, or have any communication with them, till I am altogether
independent of them, and have worked out a position for myself!”
“You must not be so violent,” said the Vice-Consul. “Come, come, let
me act the part of a real friend. Let me write.”
“Never!” said Harry, getting up to his feet. “I am very sorry, Sir, to have
troubled you with my affairs.”
“That is nonsense,” said Mr. Bonamy. “Sit down, sit down, and let us
talk it over. You have been hot-headed, I don’t doubt. What is it now? tell
me. Some foolish falling in love. You must want to marry somebody they
don’t approve.”
Harry smiled in spite of himself. “I am no more in love than you are,
Sir,” he said.
“That might be a dangerous affirmation,” said the Vice-Consul, shaking
his head, with a smile which was somewhat melancholy; “but I understand
what you mean. Then was it money? You have been foolish and got into
debt?”
“It was a little about money; but not because I had got into debt—and
that was the least of it,” Harry said. “You must pardon me, Sir; but indeed I
cannot tell you: it is a complicated business; and I can’t depart from what I
have said. I will never go home, never make it up till I have made my own
fortune. But if you will believe me,” he said earnestly, with a flush of hot
colour, “the fault was not mine. I have nothing to conceal on my side.”
“Then why conceal it?” said the Vice-Consul. “I cannot act for you
unless I have full information; but if you will trust me with your story——”
“I would trust you sooner than anyone I know; but I have promised that I
will never say a word on the subject,” said Harry, with all the obstinacy of
all the Joscelyns in his face, “until—I am independent, as I have said.” He
rose up a second time, all flushed and excited. “I am going to try my luck at
Leghorn,” he said. “I am much obliged to you, Sir, for your kindness. I have
felt myself again since I have been here; but now I will not trouble you any
more.” He held out his hand. He was a handsome young fellow, tall and
strong, with the sunburnt countenance and well-developed limbs, and
curling, fair locks, which are everywhere identified with a young
Englishman. He was not at all like a mere clerk in an office; he was like a
son of the fields and woods, one of those whose training has been of the
kind most prized and appreciated by all Englishmen—an open-air youth; a
rider, rower, swimmer, cricketer—brought up in that way which involves
leisure and space, and all the appliances of country-life. Mr. Bonamy saw
all this in Harry’s vigorous form and movements. He felt sure that he could
not be a nobody. And after all, except that of being a nobody, there is in
youth no unpardonable sin.
“Don’t be in such a hurry. Sit down again, the office does not open for
another half-hour: and let me hear what there is to be done for you,” he
said.
This was a question more embarrassing than the Vice-Consul supposed,
for after all there did not seem much that Harry could do. He confessed that
he had almost forgotten what he knew at school, and he had never learned
any modern languages, and could speak no tongue but his own. He had a
little experience in business, he said; but this was the only knowledge he
could lay claim to. The Vice-Counsel did not know what to make of him;
but as he had started with the distinct hypothesis that Harry was a squire’s
son, it was not very difficult to fit in the facts to his foregone conclusion.
Many a young gentleman forgot all his school learning by the time he was
twenty. The difficult thing was that knowledge of business which at first
Harry had been strongly disposed to put forward as the only faculty which
he knew himself to be possessed of. How had he acquired that? Mr.
Bonamy ended by deciding that he must have quarrelled with his family
some time before, and that his acquaintance with business had been the fruit
of some attempt made in England to maintain himself before he came here.
Thus, without any intention on Harry’s part, he managed to deceive his first
influential friend. He neither meant to do it, nor was he aware he had done
it; but still this was how things fell out. The conclusion of the interview was
that Mr. Bonamy engaged Harry to come back to him next day, when he
would have thought the whole matter over, and know what to say. They
parted with great friendship and cordiality, Mr. Bonamy having entirely
come round again to his own theory in respect to the young man who had
been so serviceable to his daughter. Everything seemed to prove this,
Harry’s very ignorance among the rest. “In these days every poor lad is
more or less educated; a gentleman’s son, who has something else to look to
than competitive examination, he is the only one that escapes that sort of
thing,” the Vice-Consul wisely said. Harry, on his part, went off to his hotel
with greatly exhilarated feelings. He had done nothing, he said to himself,
but make friends since ever he came to Leghorn. To be sure in the light of
the Vice-Consul’s friendship he felt that Paolo was (as he had always felt)
somewhat beneath his pretensions. But still the poor fellow had been very
kind. As he came out by the private door of the Consul’s house, he saw
Paolo at a little distance waiting till the public door of the Consulate should
be open. He saw Harry and rushed at him, beckoning violently.
“Komm ’ere, komm ’ere; this is the place,” he said. “Komm along, I will
introduce you, I will respond for you; now is the time to find the Vice-
Consul amiable. He is always amiable when he has well breakfasted.” He
seized Harry by the arm, and tried to drag him back to the Consulate with
an anxious desire to serve his friend which merited a better return. Harry
shook himself free of the little man with good-natured impatience.
“I’ve just come from the Vice-Consul,” he said with dignity, “we’re the
best of friends. I’ve been able to be of use to him, and he is going to be of
use to me. Many thanks to you, Paolo, all the same; but I’ve been lunching
there, and—and I’ve done my business. To-morrow I am to go again,”
Harry said, unconsciously holding his head high. Paolo gazed at him with
eyes and mouth that were like round O’s of wonder. He was much
crestfallen in his honest endeavours to be of service. But he soon recovered
his spirits.
 “Bravo!” he said three times over, each time more satisfied than the
other. Then he rose to a “Bravissimo,” with a smile that lighted up his olive
face. “It would have made me pleasure to be of use to you, Ser Isaack mio. I
would have responded, I would have taken it all upon me—what you call
caution. But you are a true English, like the Vice-Consul himself, and it is
just that you should understand each other. I am not disappointed—I am
happy, very much happy that you have not any need of me,” little Paolo
said, smiling, but with tears in his eyes.
 CHAPTER V.

PAOLO.

P AOLO came back from his labours in the evening, very curious to know
all about Harry’s interview with the Consul, and the origin and the result
of the acquaintance between them. But Harry was prudent. He was
prudent without any motive, from personal pride, rather than from any
consideration for the credit of Miss Bonamy, which he did not think to be in
the least involved. The women with whom Harry was acquainted were not
of a kind who would have been afraid to go anywhere in the evening, and it
did not occur to him that the reputation, even of a girl, in Italy would be
jeopardized by such an innocent benevolence as that of going to visit a sick
neighbour at night. Therefore it was simply pride and English reserve, not
any notion of prudence on Rita’s account, that kept him silent on the
subject. Paolo had a very different conception of the affair. He was very
anxious to find out what had been the immediate effect upon Harry’s mind
of the visit to the Consul’s house.
“There is a—young ladi there,” he said, watching Harry’s face. “You see
perhaps, yes? a young ladi, the daughter of the Signor.”
“Oh, yes, I saw Miss Bonamy,” Harry said.
“And you nevare—see her before?” This Paolo asked with a gleam of
mischief in his dark eyes, and the air of a man who knew a great deal more
than he said.
“Oh yes, I have met her before,” said Harry lightly. “They were quite old
friends. I did not in the least expect to meet people so like old friends here.”
Paolo was bewildered by this speech, and did not know what to think.
“Ah,” he said in a tone of disappointment. “You know them in your
country? what you call at ’ome? But,” he added with a little triumph, “there
you could not meet Signorina Rita, because she is never to go to England;
her mother die in England, her mother was the daughter of an English and
Italian, like me for example; but she die in England when she go, all young,
when the Signorina was a bébé. The Signor Vice-Consul was mad—Si!
mad, there is no other word. It was a long time that it was thought he die too
—but no, he live, he go on living; but the Signorina Rita never go to
England, that is finished, that is fixed, nothing will change it. It could not be
that you meet her there.”
“Do you know Miss Bonamy very well,” said Harry with a little offence,
“that you call her by her Christian name?”
“I say Signorina Rita, it is our custom. If she were an old, I should say
Sora Rita; and the Vice-Consul he is Ser Giovanni, that is our custom. Ser
Isaack you, Ser Paolo me—but not for you, amico. When you say Paul-o,
that pleases me,” and Paolo laughed, showing his teeth, which were very
white and even. He added, after a moment, with a sudden moistening of his
brilliant eyes, “But what displeases me, after becoming amici, as we are, is
not to be able to serve you. I picture to myself that I will do something; not
moche, but yet something. I will stand up and say, ‘I take him upon myself.
He is without papers, but I take him upon myself—me.’ Now I am without
use. It is no matter to you to have Paolo Thomp-sone for your friend. The
Vice-Consul is moche bettare—he is grand personage; he has power, not
only the heart, like me.”
“But, Paul-o,” said Harry, anxious to comfort him, and half touched, half
amused by his distress, “but for you I should never have gone near the Vice-
Consul: you put it into my head. But for you,” he added, with a laugh,
putting his hand lightly on Paolo’s shoulder, “I think I should have turned
tail altogether, and wandered off I don’t know where.”
Paolo’s face shone with delight. He would have rushed into Harry’s arms
had that been practicable, and thrown himself upon his breast. But Harry,
laughing, kept his friend at arm’s length. To have kissed, or to have suffered
himself to be kissed by, any man, seemed to him the height of ridicule.
Paolo, baffled in this impulse, sat down and looked at him with radiant
eyes. “Now I know that we are amici,” he said. “Aspetto! There is still a
way I can serve you. I well teach you to speak the Italian. You shall know it
so well that they shall say, Ecco un Italiano. Me, I have been to school in
Sienna. I know the real Toscano—the best Italian. We shall begin this
moment. That pleases to you, Ser Isaack?” asked Paolo, tenderly, looking
with humble and deprecating eagerness into his face.
“You must learn to speak English better,” Harry said, with some
condescension. “I told you before you must not not say an English, but an
Englishman, and to say an old is nonsense—it should be an old woman, or
an old man, whichever it may be.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Paolo, “that is alright, that is understood. You correct
me when I say what is not just, and I teach you.”
“Come out now for a walk,” Harry said.
Paolo jumped up alert and delighted. It is true that it glanced across the
mind of the young Englishman that perhaps it was beneath the dignity of a
man who was a friend of the Vice-Consul’s, and thus, as it were, a member
of the best society, to walk about with Paolo hanging on to his arm. But,
though Harry was full of youthful conceits and the prejudices of an ignorant
Englishman, he yet had a heart in his capacious bosom, and Paolo’s
devotion had been so great as to touch that heart. He said to himself, with a
little effusion, that he never would turn his back upon a little fellow who
had been so anxious to help him. It might be that it was presumption on the
part of the little fellow to think himself capable of serving Harry, but still it
was well meant, and his undisguised admiration showed a most just and
well-judging spirit. Nothing, he said to himself, would induce him to turn
his back upon Paolo, his first friend. Antonio had given his whole attention
to the two during the course of dinner. He had loitered behind them when he
was not actively pressing upon them all the choicest morsels, to the despair
of various less interesting guests who could not catch his eye, and who
shouted and stamped in vain. He kept shifting from one foot to another in
the restlessness of pure pleasure as he caught now and then a word of the
conversation between them, and rubbed his hands with delight in the
consciousness of being able to understand it. Now and then he would punch
a fat Italian, with whom he was familiar, in the shoulder, and call his
attention. “Ecco il giovane Inglese,” he would say, though Harry was doing
nothing more important than eating his dinner. Antonio had got his five
francs for a very short day, for naturally the time passed in the Consul’s had
given him no trouble except that of waiting, and what was still more to the
purpose than the five francs was the importance of having such a witness to
his power of English-speaking as this new guest, who could arrange nothing
for himself without his (Antonio’s) help. He disregarded even the call of the
chief butler, so absorbed was he in his favourite stranger.
“Do you wish the young Inglese to starve,” he asked, indignantly, in his
native language, “when you know the Inglesi are the best customers the
padrone has, and always send millions more? Do you propose to yourself
that he should have nothing to eat, this young one that is no doubt made of
gold; and how can he have anything to eat if I am not there to serve him?”
Thus he kept behind Harry’s chair with a countenance full of delighted
interest. Now and then he would put in a word. “Ze signori will do much
better to go to ze opera to-night,” he said. “Zey will hear La Catalina, who
is ze first in Italy. It is ze ‘Barbiere,’ Ser Paolo, which gives itself to-night.”
Paolo looked up appealingly into his friend’s face, but Harry brushed the
suggestion away with a true British argument. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he
cried, “don’t let us go and box ourselves up in a hot theatre on such a
night.”
Paolo sighed, but obeyed. He repeated the sentiment in a superior tone to
Antonio, who was anxiously serving them with Cigare Scelte, arranged in
different kinds upon a wooden tray. “A hot theatre, Antonio mio! one does
not go there in a so warm evening. That goes well with the winter, when it
is cold; but in summer, we young have need of moche air and the great
world to keep us comfort-able. When you know more of real English you
will learn what they love.”
Antonio accepted this decision of his superiors with much respect, and
laid it up in his memory, to be produced on his own account when it might
accord with his pretensions as an Anglomane and person of high sentiment
to produce it. But in the meantime he could not but launch a little criticism
to the others who overheard this dignified rebuke. “That little Paolino,” he
said, as they went out, “to give himself the air of a rich Inglese! He is
neither one thing nor another. He is no more than an abozzo—a sketch of an
Inglese,” Antonio cried. He had been in an artist’s studio in his day. “Me, I
understand them, al fondo,” he added, beating his breast.
Little Paolo had no notion that he was being called an abozzo. He sallied
forth, lighting his cigar, thrusting his arm through Harry’s with the greatest
delight and pride.
Next day, at the hour appointed, Harry presented himself at the Vice-
Consul’s office, and was received with the same cordiality. Mr. Bonamy had
“made inquiries,” but, as nobody in Leghorn knew anything about Harry,
there was not much information to be procured. Neither did the captain of
the steamer in which he had arrived know anything about him except that
he was a passenger in the second cabin; although he looked quite superior
to the second cabin. “I set him down as somebody’s son in disgrace with his
family,” the captain said. This chimed in sufficiently well with Mr.
Bonamy’s observations. He met Harry after the first consultation with a
grave face. “You know I know nothing about you, Mr. Oliver,” he said,
“except—and that is not much—what you have chosen to tell me.”
“That is quite true, Sir,” said Harry, growing serious too, and feeling his
heart sink, “and I have no right to expect you to take my word even for
that.”
“Therefore,” said the Vice-Consul, “(for you should never interrupt a
man in the middle of a sentence), I have the more claim upon you to treat
me in an honourable way. If you had come with all your papers, as they say
in this country, I should not have had the same right to put you on parole, as
it were. If you know no reason why I shouldn’t take you into my office, and
trust you with the Queen’s affairs, I mean to do so. But if there is anything
that would make you a discredit to Her Majesty’s Service——”
“There is nothing, Sir,” said Harry, standing up. His face flushed, his
nostril dilated, an impulse of almost fierce self-justification came upon him;
but fortunately for him he was not used to defending himself, and he could
not say another word.
“Then that is enough,” said the Vice-Consul. “I take you on your own
parole.”
They were both silent for a minute or two after. It was not like a
common engagement. Harry’s heart was in his throat. What with surprise at
this extraordinary good fortune, and the emotion called forth by a
confidence in him which he could not help feeling to be as extraordinary, he
was quite beyond his own control. If he had said anything he would have
“made a fool of himself,” so he said nothing, but sat still, almost disposed,
like Paolo, to be tearful, which was the most dreadful catastrophe he could
think of. The good Vice-Consul was a little affected too.
“But I don’t know a word of the language,” at last Harry said.
“We have more to do with Englishmen than Italians,” said Mr. Bonamy.
“Perhaps the fellow whom you knocked down ‘quietly,’ as you told me,
may come and make his complaint to you. Your knocking a man down
quietly was the thing that tickled me. I wonder what was his opinion of it.
You must learn the language of course, and some other things quite as
important. You must find out all about the harbour by-laws and dues, and all
that affects the shipping. These are things we have a great deal to do with.
You must master them, that is the most important thing; and when you have
been here for a little while you will find out other points. Do you know
anyone from whom you can get lessons? But I suppose, as a matter of fact,
you don’t know anyone here.”
Here Harry, finding his power of speech, told him of Paolo, with that
half laugh of commentary which implies a certain slight of the friend to
whom he had so much reason to be grateful. He felt that it was mean, but he
could not help it. How could he help implying a laugh at the droll little
person who held by him so faithfully, yet was so entirely out of Harry’s
way? However, the Vice-Consul took Paolo quite seriously. He nodded his
head with approval. “Nobody better—nobody better,” he said. “I see you
laugh at him; but he is as sound as a bell, that little fellow, and always rings
true. That he is not quite your equal,” Mr. Bonamy added, “does not matter
a bit in the circumstances. I am glad that you have chanced so fortunately.
To get hold by accident of such a genuine person as Paolo is quite a piece of
luck. I rather think you must be a lucky person,” he added, with a laugh.
“Since I came to Leghorn,” said Harry, fervently, “nothing could be
more true than that.”
“Yes, I think you must be lucky,” said the Vice-Consul, “to hit upon a
perfectly honest person as your first acquaintance, then making haste to get
yourself into a row to have so good an excuse for it as my Rita, and then
——”
“And then,” said Harry, “to meet with such astonishing, such unlooked-
for kindness, to fall on my feet in such a wonderful way.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Mr. Bonamy, not displeased, “we may say that was
luck too; and one thing, Oliver,” he added quickly, “it will be so much the
better for you that employment in Her Majesty’s Service is a disgrace to
nobody; mind what I say. Of course, in the nature of events, you and your
family will not be at daggers drawn for ever; and when you condescend to
go back, or they find you out, and come to look for you——”
“Neither, neither will happen,” cried Harry, shaking his head.
“We shall see; but if that day comes, there is nothing for them to find
fault with. A Consulate is not like a merchant’s office; anybody may serve
Her Majesty. None of us, I hope, are too good for that.”
“I assure you, Sir——” Harry cried, hastily.
 “No, no, you need not assure me. I don’t want to know anything; unless,
indeed, your heart should be opened to tell me everything, which I should
really be glad of. Well,” he said, “come to-morrow morning and begin. Your
friend, Paolo, will tell you about the hours: and I hope, Oliver, we shall
always remain the best of friends,” the Vice-Consul added, rising and
holding out his hand. “I hope nothing will happen to make me entertain a
less opinion of you than I do now; that’s understood. You shall have a card
for Rita’s evening at-home, and I hope you’ll come and see us occasionally
in a friendly way. Let us say next Sunday, perhaps? Sunday’s a dreary day
for a young man by himself. Come after church, and stay for the after noon;
for the present, goodbye.”
Harry took his hat and made his best bow. He was really quite tremulous
with excitement, surprise, and pleasure. To be so speedily and so easily
established was more good fortune than he could realize. When he was at
the door Mr. Bonamy called him back.
“Oliver!” he cried, “one moment; I would not knock any more men
down if I were you; however quietly it is done, it is a little risky, and Her
Majesty’s Service, you know——”
“You needn’t fear, Sir; that’s what Paul-o has been preaching to me all
the time,” Harry said.
Upon which the Vice-Consul laughed benignly.
“Paul-o, as you call him, is as good an adviser as you could have,” he
said.
“What should I call him but Paul-o?” Harry said to himself; and he went
off with his head in the air. Lucky! indeed he had been lucky; only the third
day since his arrival and he had a situation and a sort of a home and friends;
to make up to him for all the evil that had happened to him before,
providence was taking special care of him now. Somehow this made Harry
think of his mother, of whom, hitherto, his thoughts had been scarcely more
kind than towards the others concerned; a little moisture crept unawares to
his eyes. “She’ll have been praying,” he said to himself; and suddenly he
seemed to see her, as he had seen her so often, wringing her thin worn
hands, her lips trembling with words that were inaudible. He thought—it
would be hard to trace the exact connection of ideas, but there was one—
that he would go in to the first church in which there seemed to be service
going on, on his way back to the inn. It would not have occurred to him to
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