Colin woke from his dreamless sleep next morning, to find Nino’s hand on his bare shoulder, gently stirring him. His clothes were in a heap on the floor by his bedside, for when he came in he had but stripped himself and wrapped a sheet round him in which, cocoon-like, he had lain unstirring. He was conscious of a strong glow of happiness as he was thus recalled, and his lazy strength came soaking into him. “Oh, Nino, what a nuisance you are,” he said. “You spend your beastly life in waking me.” “Will you sleep again, then?” asked Nino. “No, the mischief is done now. What’s the morning like? What’s the news?” “A telephone message from Mrs. Hunt,” said Nino. “She would know if she may come down to-day for Sunday.” Colin grinned. The moment Nino had said “telephone message” he had guessed from whom it came. “Well then, she mayn’t,” he said. “Damned cheek! It would never do, would it, Nino?” “She will be very happy, she said, if she may come,” observed Nino. Colin raised himself a little, and drew his hand down his arm. The fact that he had decided that Pamela Hunt should not come, made him see causes for re-consideration. “Just rub my arm,” he said, “I’ve been sleeping on it, and it isn’t awake. Of course, if it would make her happy, that’s a different thing. We ought always to make people happy, Nino, except when we’re making them miserable. Tell her she can come then. What’s the morning like?” “_Splendore_,” said Nino. “I shall bathe. I wish you’d carry me straight down to the lake and drop me into it.” “Sicuro,” said Nino. Colin looked at him, yawning. “Get on then,” he said, wondering what he would do. Nino bent down, and putting one arm below his neck, and the other under his knees, lifted him up. “Right about turn,” said Colin. “March.” Nino carried him as far as the door, and was evidently perfectly ready to bear him, with the sheet folded round him, down to the lake. He held him as easily as a child, and his face was all wreathed with merriment. “I am your nurse,” he said. “You are my bambino, signor.” Colin laughed. “Oh, but this won’t do,” he said. “Put me down, Nino. People would think it so odd. There are enough oddities in the house without our adding to them. And go and telephone. Don’t keep a lady waiting.” “But I was busy attending to my signor,” said Nino. “I know. You’re a good boy. You shall come off to Capri with me before long. Follow me down when you’ve telephoned. I know there’s something I want to ask you about, and I shall remember it when the water has awakened me.”