It proved however to be no risk at all. At supper, a simple meal of spaghetti, a salad and grapes, she was examined shyly by several children, hopefully by several dogs, curiously by the adults of the family. But the spaghetti was delicious and Cynthia was hungry. After dinner she was far too sleepy to do more than take a short walk down the quiet dusty road. Back in her room she wedged a chair under the latch of the lockless door and fell asleep almost before she could think again what an adventure this was. * * * * * The express from the north, to which Cynthia transferred a half hour beyond the little village, arrived in Venice about nine o’clock. It looked, she thought as she waited in the train corridor, just a little disappointing, only a long, tunnel-like train shed. No canals, no gondolas, no palaces in sight. The burly Italian in front of her swung off with his bags, Cynthia prepared to follow, and stopped stock still, midway of the top step. “_Chick!_” “_Cynthia_,” came the excited reply, “Where on earth? ...” “I ... I thought you were in New York, Chick!” And stood gaping with open mouth until a large bag prodded her, not too gently, in the middle of her back. Then she swung down the steps and dropped suitcase and paint box to fling herself into the arms of the surprised young man. Almost, it seemed, as surprised as she was. “I thought you were due last night, on the _rapide_ from Genoa,” exclaimed the disgusted Chick. “You wrote that to Nancy you know. And I’ve been meeting trains almost all night. ... It was only by luck I stopped here. I was meeting the express from Genoa on track six ten minutes ago.” He signaled a porter. “This your stuff? All of it?” A hand beneath her elbow, impersonally, kindly, almost as though he were the favorite nephew of a maiden aunt, all concern for her baggage, that she pass the _dogana_, the local custom house, that she give her ticket to the proper uniformed official. They came out of the stone doorway onto a half dozen steep stone steps. Before them shimmered the canal. So the popular report was true and Venice did have them? “I’ve got a gondola waiting right here ...” he looked along the bobbing, yelling line of gondoliers who shouted their wares and virtues below the quay. “Dash that fellow ...” she heard him mutter. “Oh well, never mind Cyn, we’ll take this one,” and still with that air of a nephew-who-expects-to-be-well-remembered-in-the-will, piloted her down the step. The wide upholstered seat was very comfortable. With surprisingly little fuss they were in the center of the stream, Chick had given the order, his fingers caught hers and held them tight. Good, then they really were still engaged! Cynthia chuckled happily. “I can’t ...” she turned to gaze at him ... “can’t get over this Chick. It’s the greatest surprise of my life.”