erstood the dubious
ways of native boatmen, went with them to prevent extortionate demands,
and saw them safely on board.

"The blackguards would have charged us treble if we'd been alone!"
declared Mr. Stacey. "They are a set of brigands, the whole lot of them.
By daylight we might have managed, but it's difficult in the dark. I'm
thankful to see all our luggage here. I thought a hand-bag or two were
going to be lost!"

If the girls had counted upon a peaceful night, they were much
disappointed. They retired, indeed, to their berths, but not to sleep.
The short crossing between Malta and Sicily is one of the worst in the
world, and there was a swell which almost rivalled their experiences in
the Bay of Biscay. The little vessel pitched and tossed and rolled, and
caused them many hours of discomfort, till at length, at six o'clock, it
steamed into the harbor at Syracuse, and landed them on Sicilian soil. A
train journey of a few hours followed, to Targia Vecchia, which was the
nearest railway station to Montalesso, where Carmel's home was
situated.

Mr. Greville met them at Targia Vecchia, and after kissing Carmel, who
rushed straight into his arms, gave a most hearty welcome to the rest of
the party. He had two cars waiting, and after the usual preliminaries of
counting up luggage, and giving up checks and tickets, they found
themselves whisking along a good Sicilian road in the direction of Etna,
whose white, snow-covered peak was the commanding feature in the whole
of the surrounding landscape. The Casa Bianca or White House justified
its name, for it was a handsome building of white stone, encircled by a
veranda, and hung with beautiful flowering creepers. In its rich,
sub-tropical garden grew palms, aloes, bamboos, and the flaming Judas
trees, thickets of roses, and a wilderness of geraniums. The Ingletons
caught an impression of gay foreign blossoms as they motored up the
stately drive to the steps of the house. Their arrival had evidently
been watched, for on the veranda was assembled quite a big company ready
to greet them. First there was Carmel's mother, the Signora Greville, as
she was generally called, a beautiful, sweet-looking lady, with her
daughter's dark eyes, and the gracious stately manners of old Sicilian
traditions. Then there were the children, Bertram, Nina, Vincent, and
Luigia, the two first fair, like their English father, the younger ones
taking after the Italian side of the family. With the