river and said:

"We want to go to a hotel."

The man paid no attention.

"Ask him how much he charges, Uncle. You know you mustn't take a cab in
Naples without bargaining."

"Why not?"

"The driver will swindle you."

"I'll risk that," he answered. "Just now we're lucky if we get a
carriage at all." He reached up and prodded the jehu in the ribs with
his cane. "How much to the Hotel Vesuvius?" he demanded, loudly.

The man woke up and flourished his whip, at the same time bursting into
a flood of Italian.

The girls listened carefully. They had been trying to study Italian
from a small book Beth had bought entitled "Italian in Three Weeks
without a Master," but not a word the driver of the carriage said seemed
to have occurred in the vocabulary of the book. He repeated "Vesuvio"
many times, however, with scornful, angry or imploring intonations, and
Louise finally said:

"He thinks you want to go to the volcano, Uncle. The hotel is the
Vesuve, not the Vesuvius."

"What's the difference?"

"I don't know."

"All right; you girls just hop in, and leave the rest to me."

He tumbled them all into the vehicle, bag and baggage, and then said
sternly to the driver:

"Ho-tel Ve-suve--Ve-suve--ho-tel Ve-suve! Drive there darned quick, or
I'll break your confounded neck."

The carriage started. It plowed its way jerkily through the dust-laden
streets and finally stopped at an imposing looking structure. The day
was growing darker, and an electric lamp burned before the entrance.
But no one came out to receive them.

Uncle John climbed out and read the sign. "Hotel du Vesuve." It was the
establishment he had been advised to stop at while in Naples. He
compared the sign with a card which he drew from his pocket, and knew
that he had made no mistake.

Entering the spacious lobby, he found it deserted. In the office a man
was hastily making a package of some books and papers and did not
respond or even look up when spoken to. At the concierge's desk a big,
whiskered man sat staring straight ahead of him with a look of abject
terror in his eyes.

"Good morning," said Uncle John. "Fine day, isn't it?"

"Did you hear it?" whispered the concierge, as a dull boom, like that of
a distant cannon, made the windows rattle in their casements.

"Of course," replied Mr. Merrick, carelessly. "Old Vesuve seems on a
rampage. But never mind that now. We've just come from America, where
the mountains are more polite, and w