It was the day
when the pretty lakeside town celebrated the Fete des Narcisses, and from
the smallest street urchin, grabbing a bunch of narcissi in his grubby
little hand and trying to induce the good-natured foreigner to purchase his
wares, to the usually stolid _hoteliers_, vying with each other as to which
of their caravanserais should blaze out into the most arresting scheme of
decoration on the great occasion, the whole population was aquiver with an
almost child-like sense of anticipation and delight. There was to be a
procession of decorated cars and carriages, a battle of flowers, and
attractions innumerable during the course of the day, followed in the
evening by a Venetian fete on the waters of the bay.
Tony looked in at Villa Mon Reve shortly after breakfast.
"Taking any part in the proceedings?" he inquired conversationally.
Ann shook her head.
"We've had the car decorated in honour of the occasion," she replied. "But
we're not competing for any prize. I expect we shall just drive about the
town."
"Same here. Tour round, chucking flowers at unsuspecting people. It's a
bore that you and I can't play about together," moodily. "But we've got a
female relative of Uncle Philip's on our hands--a wealthy old cousin, name
of 'Great Expectations,'" with a cheerful grin.
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