o the
summit. Up and up under the screen of delicate blossom, they felt as if
they were treading in some tropical garden, and when they reached the
summit, and the view burst upon them of crimson-clad slope, gleaming
lake, and flecked blue sky, they stood gazing with much satisfaction.
"The Temple," as the girls called the summer-house, was a classic
building with a terrace in front, and here the school elected to sit,
instead of in the rather cramped room. There was a kitchen at the back,
and Mrs. Bates, the lodge-keeper's wife, had lighted a fire and boiled
kettles in readiness for them.

"Sir Ranald and his friends come for lunch here sometimes in the
shooting season," she explained, "so I'm used to getting tea and coffee
made. Take some chairs outside if you like. You'd rather sit on the
steps! Well, there's no accounting for tastes! Give me your teapots, and
I'll warm them before you put the tea into them."

Sitting in a row on the steps that led from the "temple" to the terrace,
the girls had a glorious view, Carmel in especial seemed particularly to
enjoy herself.

"It's more like home than anything I've seen yet!" she declared
enthusiastically. "I could almost fancy that this little piazza is on
the slope of Etna! The goatherds ought to be playing the 'Pastorale'
down there! I can nearly hear them!"

"What's the 'Pastorale'?" asked Dulcie.

"It's the Sicilian National Dance. Every body dances it--sometimes by
sunlight and sometimes by moonlight. Oh! it's a thing that gets into
your blood! Once you hear it played on the pipes you have to jump up and
dance--you simply can't help it. There's magic in it!"

"Dance it for us now on the terrace!" suggested Dulcie.

"I've no music!"

"Can't you hum it? Miss Walters, may Carmel show us a Sicilian dance?"

"By all means, if she will!" acquiesced the head-mistress.

"Go on Carmel!" commanded the girls. "Show us how it goes!"

Thus urged, Carmel rose from her seat, and went on to the terrace at the
foot of the steps. She looked for a moment or two at the crimson slope
of flowers and the shining lake, as if to put herself into the right
mental atmosphere, then, humming a lively but haunting tune, she began
her old-world southern dance.

It was wonderful dancing, every action of her alert young body was so
beautifully graceful that you forgot her modern costume and could
imagine her a nymph in classic draperies. Her arms kept motion with her
tripping feet, and