been well turned over in search of treasure. Trust the fisher people not
to lose a chance. Now our stay here's limited by the official tariff to
a quarter of an hour, and if we stop any longer we shall have to pay our
dues a second time. If you're ready so am I. Tell the first boat to go
on. Don't forget we must lie on our backs again to scrape through the
entrance."

CHAPTER XX

The Cameron Clan

Lorna had never realized before how much of life can be compressed into
a few days. The interval between her father's departure for Naples and
his return for the week-end was spent almost entirely with her friends.
It marked for her an altogether new phase of existence. She had read in
books about jolly families of brothers and sisters, and parties of young
people, but her own experience was strictly limited to school. Here in
Capri, for the first time she tasted the delights of which she had often
dreamed, and found herself cordially included in a charmed circle.
Though the Beverleys were mainly responsible for thus taking her up, the
Camerons also offered much kindness. "The Cameron Clan" as they called
themselves, consisted of father, mother, Jess, and two brothers, Angus
and Stewart, and almost every evening the young folk would meet at their
villa and gather round a wood fire in the salon. Though the days were so
warm the nights were chilly, and it was cheerful to watch the blazing
logs. What times they had together! It was an established rule that
everybody contributed some item to the general entertainment, and in
spite of fierce denials even the least accomplished were compelled to
perform. It brought out quite unexpected talent. Peachy, who had always
declared her music "wasn't up to anything," charmed the company by
lilting darkie melodies or pathetic Indian songs, Captain Preston
remembered conjuring tricks which he had learned in India, Mr. Roper
proved a genius at relating short stories, and Mrs. Cameron could recite
old ballads with the fervor of a medieval minstrel. The walls of the
Italian salon seemed to melt away and change to a wild moorland or a
northern castle as she declaimed "Fair Helen of Kirconnell," "The Lament
of the Border Widow," "Bartrum's Dirge," or "The Braes o' Yarrow."

"Modern people want more poetry in their veins," she insisted. "I've no
patience with the stuff most of them read. There's more romance in one
of those stories of ancient times than you'd find in a whole boxful of