All the way home the young Venetian was peculiarly silent. His national pride had received a blow. Bohemia had surpassed Venice at its own trade, the art of glass-making! CHAPTER VIII JEAN THREATENS TO STEAL GIUSIPPE'S TRADE It was the next morning while Mr. Cabot and Giusippe were still discussing the Blaschka glass flowers that the Italian lad remarked: "I have wondered and wondered ever since we went out to Harvard how those fragile flower models were annealed without breaking. It must have been very difficult." "What is annealing?" inquired Jean, holding at arm's length a doll's hat and straightening a feather at one side of it. "Annealing? Why, the gradual cooling of the glass after it has been heated." "What do they heat it for?" "Don't you know how glass is made?" Giusippe asked in surprise. Jean shook her head. "No. How should I?" "Why--but I thought every one knew that!" "I don't see why. How could a girl know about the work you men do unless you take the trouble to tell her?" Jean dimpled. "All through Europe you and Uncle Bob have talked glass, glass, glass--nothing but glass, and as you both seemed to understand what you were talking about I did not like to interrupt and ask questions; but I had no more idea than the man in the moon what you meant sometimes." "Do you mean to say you know nothing at all about the process of glass-making, Jean?" asked Mr. Cabot. "Not a thing." "Well, well, well! You have been a very patient little lady, that is all I can say. Giusippe and I have been both rude and remiss, haven't we, Giusippe? I thought of course you understood; and yet it is not at all strange that you did not. As you say, how could you? Why didn't you ask us, dear?" "Oh, I didn't like to. I hate to seem stupid and be a bother." "You are neither of those things, dear child. Is she, Giusippe?" "I should say not." "Well then, if it is all the same to you, I do wish somebody would tell me whether glass is dug up out of the earth or is made of things mixed together like a pudding," said Jean. Both Giusippe and Uncle Bob laughed. "The pudding idea is the nearer correct. Glass is made from ingredients which are mixed together, boiled, baked, and set away to cool. Isn't that about it, Giusippe?" Giusippe nodded. "I think the best remedy we can administer to this young lady, as well as the most fitting penance for our own discourtesy to her, is to escort her through a glass factory and let her, with her own eyes, behold the process. What do you say, Giusippe?" "A capital idea, senor. Then I, too, should have the chance to visit an American factory and compare the process you use here with our Italian method. I should like it above everything else." "That is precisely what we will do then," declared Mr. Cabot. "On my first leisure day we will go, and in the meantime I will hunt up the location of the most satisfactory and nearest glass works." Not more than a week passed before Uncle Bob fulfilled his promise.