While he was yet discussing with himself how to approach the subject, the hostess came to tell him that Onofrio’s illness would prevent him acting as his boatman, and begged the boat might be spared him on that day, to send over some fruit and fresh flowers he had promised to the family at St Rosalia; “that is,” added she, “if I’m lucky enough to find a boatman to take them, for at this season all are in full work in the fields.” “What would you say, Donna Marietta, if I were to take charge of the basket myself, and be your messenger to the villa?” The hostess was far less astonished at his offer than he had imagined she would be. With her native ideas on these subjects, she only accepted the proposal as an act of civility, and not as a surprising piece of condescension, and simply said, “Onofrio shall thank you heartily for it when he is up and about again.” If this was not the exact sort of recognition he looked for, Calvert at all events saw that he was pledged to fulfil his offer; and so he stood by while she measured out peas, and counted over artichokes, and tied up bundles of mint and thyme, and stored up a pannier full of ruddy apples, surmounting all with a gorgeous bouquet of richly perfumed flowers, culled in all the careless profusion of that land of plenty. Nor was this all. She impressed upon him how he was to extol the excellence of this, and the beauty of that, to explain that the violets were true Parmesans, and the dates such as only Onofrio knew how to produce. Loyd laughed his own little quiet laugh when he heard of his friend’s mission, and his amusement was not lessened at seeing the half-awkward and more than half-unwilling preparations Calvert made to fulfil it. “Confound the woman!” said he, losing all patience; “she wanted to charge me with all the bills and reckonings for the last three weeks, on the pretext that her husband is but ill-skilled in figures, and that it was a rare chance to find one like myself to undertake the office. I have half a mind to throw the whole cargo overboard when I reach the middle of the lake. I suppose a Nap. would clear all the cost.” “Oh, I’ll not hear of such extravagance,” said Loyd, demurely. “I conclude I have a right to an act of personal folly, eh?” asked Calvert, pettishly. “Nothing of the kind. I drew up our contract with great care, and especially on this very head, otherwise it would have been too offensive a bargain for him who should have observed all the rigid injunctions of its economy.” “It was a stupid arrangement from the first,” said Calvert warmly. “Two men yet never lived, who could say that each could bound his wants by those of another. Not to say that an individual is not himself the same each day of the week. I require this on Tuesday, which I didn’t want on Monday, and so on.” “You are talking of caprice as though it were necessity, Calvert.”