sheer waste. Mums, I'm so excited! May I begin and pack for Italy now? I
can't wait."

For the next two weeks great confusion reigned in the Beverley
household. It is no light matter to decide what you need to take abroad,
what you wish to lock up at home, and to leave your establishment in
apple-pie order for the use of strangers. Inventories of furniture,
linen, blankets, and china had to be written and checked, a rigorous
selection made of the things to be packed, and the luggage cut down to
the limits prescribed by the railway companies. Poor Mrs. Beverley was
nearly worn out when at last the overflowing boxes were fastened, the
bags and hold-alls were strapped, and the taxis, which were to take them
to the station, arrived at the door. Tears stood in her eyes as she
crossed the threshold of her own house.

"It's a tremendous wrench!" she fluttered.

"Never mind, Mums!" consoled Irene, linking her arm in her mother's.
"It's an adventure, and we all want to go. You'll love it when we're
once off. No, don't look back: it's unlucky! Your bag's in the cab; I
saw Jessie put it in. Hooray for Italy, say I, and a good riddance to
smoky old London! In another couple of days we shall be down south and
turning into Romeos and Juliets as fast as we can. You'll see Dad
learning a guitar and strumming it under your balcony, and serenading
you no end."

"Hardly at his time of life!" said Mrs. Beverley; but the joke amused
her, she wiped her eyes, and, as Irene had hoped and intended, stepped
smiling into the waiting taxi, and left her old home with laughter
instead of with tears.

In her fourteen years of experience Irene had traveled very little, so
the migration to Italy was a fairy journey so far as she was concerned.
To catch the boat express they had made an early start, and they
breakfasted in the train between London and Dover. It was fun to sit in
comfortable padded armchairs, eating fish or ham and eggs, and watching
the landscape whirling past; fun to see the deft-handed waiters nipping
about with trays or teacups; and fun to observe the occupants of the
other tables in the car. There was a fat, good-natured Frenchman who
amused Irene, a languid English lady who annoyed her, an elderly
gourmand who excited her disgust, and a neighboring party, one member of
which at least aroused her interest and caused her to cast cautious side
glances in the direction of the next table. This center of attraction
was a small girl