noon
His lips were tight set and the girls , slyly observing his face , were sure his wrist was hurting him much more than he cared to acknowledge . Circling around the cliff beyond Positano the sun greeted them , shining from out a blue sky , and they wondered what had become of the bad weather they had so lately experienced . From now on , past Prajano and into Amalfi , the day was brilliant and the temperature delightful . It was full noon by the time they alighted at the little gate-house of the ancient Cappuccini-Convento , now a hotel much favored by the tourist . Count Ferralti promised to join them later and rode on to the town to find a surgeon to look after his injured hand , while the others slowly mounted the long inclines leading in a zigzag fashion up to the old monastery , which was founded in the year 1212 . From the arbored veranda of this charming retreat is obtained one of the finest views in Europe , and while the girls sat enjoying it Uncle John arranged with a pleasant faced woman -LRB- who had once lived in America -RRB- for their luncheon . An hour later , and just as they were sitting down to the meal , Count Ferralti rejoined them .