e railway."

Mrs. Beverley, Mrs. Roper, and Joyce Preston joined Mrs. Cameron in
taking advantage of the little "Ferrovia Funicolare" that connected the
harbor with the town, and arrived on the piazza cool and fresh compared
with those who had preferred to toil up the steep path.

"I told you to come with me, Renie child," chided Mrs. Beverley. "Look
how hot you are already. You'll be quite overdone before we get to the
summit."

"Oh, Mums darling, I'm not tired! I've saved the fare and bought this
swanky little cane instead. Look! Isn't it dinky?" protested Irene,
proudly exhibiting her newly purchased treasure. "It has a leather strap
and a tassel and a knob that one can suck."

"You baby," laughed her mother. "We shall have to buy you a tin trumpet.
I don't believe you're out of the nursery yet."

"Tin trumpet, Mums darling? Oh! You've given me such an idea," purred
Irene, running to Michael Foard and whispering some communication into
his sympathetic ear, which caused him to walk back to a certain street
stall and purchase nine tin whistles, with which the younger members of
the party armed themselves and immediately began a desperate attempt to
reproduce "The Bluebells of Scotland," hugely to the entertainment of
the natives, who flocked to their doors all smiles and amused
exclamations.

"Bairns! I think shame of you," declared Mrs. Cameron. "They'll take us
for a wandering circus. Put those unmusical instruments in your pockets
till we're clear of the town. I never heard a poor Scottish air so
mangled. You may practice your band on the hills and scare the goats.
Don't play it in my ears again till you catch the proper tune."

The musicians, after their first burst of enthusiasm was expended, were
glad to save their breath for the climb. When houses were left behind
their way wound between high walls, up, up, up, along a paved pathway
among orange groves, till at last the allotments disappeared, and they
were on the open hillside, among the low shrubs and the rough grass and
the beautiful flowers. Irene, running up a bank in quest of
bee-orchises, broke her new cane into four pieces, but was somewhat
consoled by a stick which Michael cut her from a chestnut tree.

"It hasn't a knob to suck," he laughed, "but I'll tie a stick of
peppermint on to the end of it if you like."

"Don't tease me, or I'll throw a squashy orange at you."

"I thought you were fond of peppermint."

"So I am, and if there's anoth