d Lorna.

"And I'm on the point of famishing," protested Irene, slapping her
lunch-bag with a resounding smack.

Miss Morley turned round at the sound, and possibly caught the remark,
for she spoke hastily to the guide, then suggested that the girls should
sit in a row on a fallen column and consume their provisions.

"You all need a rest and something to eat now. Then we'll go on with our
sightseeing, and have tea at the restaurant when we've finished," she
decreed.

Never were ham sandwiches and oranges so acceptable. Viewing ruins may
be extremely interesting, but it is a highly fatiguing occupation, and
Delia at least had reached the stage of the over-burdened camel.

"I guess I don't like anything B.C. It's too depressing. Give me Paris!"
she declared tragically.

"Cheer up, old sport!" consoled Irene. "I'm going to take a snap-shot
of some of us when the guide isn't looking. You shall be in it. You'd
like to send some prints to your friends in America, wouldn't you?"

"Rather! They'd burst with envy to see me photographed inside Pompeii.
Where are you going to take us? I've finished my lunch. Let's get busy
quick, before the guide comes round the corner."

Delia was prancing with eagerness. She flitted about like a butterfly,
bent on choosing the best position for the desired snap-shot. Blanche,
Mabel, and Elsie came hurrying up anxious to join the group, and fixed
themselves in elegant poses.

"Oh, I can't put in such a crowd," objected Irene. "You block out the
whole of the view. I only want Delia and Lorna, and yes, I'll have
Desiree, but nobody else. Please clear out of the way."

"Well, really!"

"You mean thing!"

"We don't want to be in your old photo!"

Irene had felt cross and was possibly impolite, but she was not prepared
for the Nemesis that descended upon her head. She had just congratulated
herself that Blanche, Mabel, and Elsie had beaten a retreat and that she
had been able to take her snap-shot so successfully, when who should
make his unwelcome appearance but the guide, catching her in the very
act of winding on her film. He sighed sorrowfully, and spread out his
hands with a dramatic Italian gesture.

"Signorina! Non e permesso!" he objected.

[Illustration: "'SIGNORINA! IT IS NOT PERMITTED!'"

--Page 105]

"I'm awfully sorry. I won't do it again, really," murmured Irene,
cramming the little camera back into her pocket.

But this apology did not content No. 24. He very cou