Daisy Miller | Page 4

than Europe;."
Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in
which the child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller had been
removed to the sphere of celestial reward. But Randolph immediately
added, "My father's in Schenectady. He's got a big business. My
father's rich, you bet!"
"Well!" ejaculated Miss Miller, lowering her parasol and looking at the
embroidered border. Winterbourne presently released the child, who
departed, dragging his alpenstock along the path. "He doesn't like
Europe," said the young girl. "He wants to go back."
"To Schenectady, you mean?"
"Yes; he wants to go right home. He hasn't got any boys here. There is
one boy here, but he always goes round with a teacher; they won't let
him play."
"And your brother hasn't any teacher?" Winterbourne inquired.
"Mother thought of getting him one, to travel round with us. There was
a lady told her of a very good teacher; an American lady--perhaps you

know her--Mrs. Sanders. I think she came from Boston. She told her of
this teacher, and we thought of getting him to travel round with us. But
Randolph said he didn't want a teacher traveling round with us. He said
he wouldn't have lessons when he was in the cars. And we ARE in the
cars about half the time. There was an English lady we met in the
cars--I think her name was Miss Featherstone; perhaps you know her.
She wanted to know why I didn't give Randolph lessons--give him
'instruction,' she called it. I guess he could give me more instruction
than I could give him. He's very smart."
"Yes," said Winterbourne; "he seems very smart."
"Mother's going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy. Can
you get good teachers in Italy?"
"Very good, I should think," said Winterbourne.
"Or else she's going to find some school. He ought to learn some more.
He's only nine. He's going to college." And in this way Miss Miller
continued to converse upon the affairs of her family and upon other
topics. She sat there with her extremely pretty hands, ornamented with
very brilliant rings, folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now
resting upon those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden,
the people who passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to
Winterbourne as if she had known him a long time. He found it very
pleasant. It was many years since he had heard a young girl talk so
much. It might have been said of this unknown young lady, who had
come and sat down beside him upon a bench, that she chattered. She
was very quiet; she sat in a charming, tranquil attitude; but her lips and
her eyes were constantly moving. She had a soft, slender, agreeable
voice, and her tone was decidedly sociable. She gave Winterbourne a
history of her movements and intentions and those of her mother and
brother, in Europe, and enumerated, in particular, the various hotels at
which they had stopped. "That English lady in the cars," she
said--"Miss Featherstone-- asked me if we didn't all live in hotels in
America. I told her I had never been in so many hotels in my life as
since I came to Europe. I have never seen so many--it's nothing but
hotels." But Miss Miller did not make this remark with a querulous

accent; she appeared to be in the best humor with everything. She
declared that the hotels were very good, when once you got used to
their ways, and that Europe was perfectly sweet. She was not
disappointed--not a bit. Perhaps it was because she had heard so much
about it before. She had ever so many intimate friends that had been
there ever so many times. And then she had had ever so many dresses
and things from Paris. Whenever she put on a Paris dress she felt as if
she were in Europe.
"It was a kind of a wishing cap," said Winterbourne.
"Yes," said Miss Miller without examining this analogy; "it always
made me wish I was here. But I needn't have done that for dresses. I am
sure they send all the pretty ones to America; you see the most frightful
things here. The only thing I don't like," she proceeded, "is the society.
There isn't any society; or, if there is, I don't know where it keeps itself.
Do you? I suppose there is some society somewhere, but I haven't seen
anything of it. I'm very fond of society, and I have always had a great
deal of it. I don't mean only in Schenectady, but in New York. I used to
go to New York every winter. In New York I had lots of society. Last
winter I had