It seemed as if Andrea couldn't answer fast enough, there was so much to
tell, and he repeated more than once as he passed the blue rosette for
their closer inspection:
"There wasn't a bird to compare with him!"
"And you say you rode behind a horse?" Paolo questioned, as the entire
party crowded into the old gondola, and Chico flew into his master's lap.
"Si! Si! And saw an automobile!" was the proud answer as Andrea went on to
describe how it "went like the wind," just like the one he had dreamed of.
Unconsciously there crept into his demeanor a slight suggestion of Pietro's
swagger, and while he was glad to get home, and though St. Mark's Square
never seemed so beautiful before, still there was no denying it was a great
experience to have traveled and seen something of the world.
CHAPTER XIII
AND ALL FOR ITALY!
Some years passed and Andrea was now a stocky lad with resolute walk and
steady black eyes. He was fourteen, the age to which he had long looked
forward as the time when he should realize his ambition to work beside
his father in the glass factory. Maria, too, was growing up: already her
fingers were almost as deft as her mother's in making lace, under
whose guidance she could even fashion the beautiful roses, the special
characteristic of Venetian point.
As for Chico, he was constantly establishing new records, and his wings
bore witness to many triumphs.
Then the Great War came, and the world shook with its thunders.
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