“Now, Mr. Robinson!” And in this way the time passed on the quay at Colico, till the boat came and took us away. I should have preferred to pass my time in making myself agreeable to the younger lady; but the younger lady stood aloof, turning up her nose, as I thought, at her mamma. I will not attempt to describe the scenery about Colico. The little town itself is one of the vilest places under the sun, having no accommodation for travellers, and being excessively unhealthy; but there is very little either north or south of the Alps,—and, perhaps, I may add, very little elsewhere,—to beat the beauty of the mountains which cluster round the head of the lake. When we had sat upon those boxes that hour and a half, we were taken on board the steamer, which had been lying off a little way from the shore, and then we commenced our journey. Of course there was a good deal of exertion and care necessary in getting the packages off from the shore on to the boat, and I observed that any one with half an eye in his head might have seen that the mental anxiety expended on that one box which was marked by the small hole in the canvas far exceeded that which was extended to all the other six boxes. “They deserve that it should be stolen,” I said to myself, “for being such fools.” And then we went down to breakfast in the cabin. “I suppose it must be safe,” said Mrs. Greene to me, ignoring the fact that the cabin waiter understood English, although she had just ordered some veal cutlets in that language. “As safe as a church,” I replied, not wishing to give much apparent importance to the subject. “They can’t carry it off here,” said Mr. Greene. But he was innocent of any attempt at a joke, and was looking at me with all his eyes. “They might throw it overboard,” said Sophonisba. I at once made up my mind that she could not be a good-natured girl. The moment that breakfast was over, Mrs. Greene returned again up-stairs, and I found her seated on one of the benches near the funnel, from which she could keep her eyes fixed upon the box. “When one is obliged to carry about one’s jewels with one, one must be careful, Mr. Robinson,” she said to me apologetically. But I was becoming tired of the box, and the funnel was hot and unpleasant, therefore I left her. I had made up my mind that Sophonisba was ill-natured; but, nevertheless, she was pretty, and I now went through some little manœuvres with the object of getting into conversation with her. This I soon did, and was surprised by her frankness. “How tired you must be of mamma and her box,” she said to me. To this I made some answer, declaring that I was rather interested than otherwise in the safety of the precious trunk. “It makes me sick,” said Sophonisba, “to hear her go on in that way to a perfect stranger. I heard what she said about her jewellery.” “It is natural she should be anxious,” I said, “seeing that it contains so much that is valuable.”