very terrible duenna, and we are not at all frightened of
you," he added, finishing, like every true Italian, with a compliment.

Lilias, Dulcie, and Carmel had three small beds in a room that led out
of Cousin Clare's. Though they had pretended to be disappointed at not
being allowed to go to the theater, in reality they were all extremely
tired and glad to rest. Dulcie in particular snuggled down on her pillow
and was asleep even before Lilias turned off the electric light. The
others were not long in following suit, and in a short time all were in
the land of dreams.

It was perhaps two o'clock in the morning when Lilias awoke in the
darkness with a start. Her bed was shaking violently under her, as it
had done once long ago, when Everard in his school-days had played a
trick upon her. There was a loud rumbling noise, like the passing of a
gigantic motor-lorry or a railway train, the jugs and basins were
rattling, and a glass of water, placed on the edge of the table, fell to
the ground with a smash.

"What is it? Oh, what's the matter?" cried Lilias, terribly scared.

She put out her hand and tried to turn on the electric light, but she
moved the switch in vain, Carmel, who had groped for the matches,
lighted a candle, and by the time the welcome little yellow flame showed
itself, the shaking and rumbling had entirely ceased. Lilias looked
anxiously round the room.

"What's the matter?" she asked again.

"Only an earthquake!" said Carmel calmly. "It's over now."

"An _earthquake_!" Lilias's voice was tragic.

"Just a slight shock. We often have them."

"O-o-h! Will the walls tumble down?"

"Certainly not--it only makes the china rattle."

By this time Cousin Clare, also unaccustomed to earthquakes and almost
as alarmed as Lilias, came into the room. Carmel pacified them both,
assuring them that such tremors were of quite common occurrence, and
that people in Sicily thought little about them unless they were severe
enough to do damage.

All this time Dulcie's pink cheek was buried in the pillow, and her
breath came as quietly and evenly as that of a baby.

"I'm glad she didn't wake. She was very tired, poor child," commented
Cousin Clare, after a glance at the bed in the corner.

Dulcie was, of course, unmercifully teased next morning for having slept
through an earthquake.

"If Etna shot its cone off during the night I don't believe it would
wake you!" laughed Everard. "The Seven Sleepers are noth