s and
making excuses, till Pa said in his joking way, he'd bet that "Jack was
up to some game of his own," and my lady didn't like that a little bit.
Finally, when Pa and I got sick of Cannes, which is too far from Monte
Carlo to be lively, we all went on to Rome. That was just after my last
epistle to you. It rained cats and dogs in Rome, and I never went into a
single church, not even St. Peter's. We planned to wait for "Jack," but
your letter came, and I was afraid there might be something in that joke
of yours about his trying to keep out of my way, and I was bound he
shouldn't think I was after him. There's as good fish in the sea as ever
came out of it for a girl who can bait her hook as I can. So when Lady
B.'s neuralgia got bad, we proposed Naples, and it was very nice. But
she is a fussy old thing and couldn't let well alone; she'd seen Naples
and hadn't seen Sicily. Nothing would do but we should "run over." I
would have put my foot down on that, but Lady B. mentioned that she had
a friend at some place called Taormina, an English baronet with a lovely
house, who always had a lot of nice people staying with him. And she
said she'd often been invited, and would get an invitation for us all
for a few days if we'd go. I thought we might meet someone it would be a
good thing for us to know, so I consented; but we were to go first to
Palermo and Siracusa, and work on to Taormina by the time our invitation
arrived.

Palermo wasn't so bad. I never saw so many young men in my life, all
very dark, with enormous eyes, and little moustaches and canes, both of
which they twirled a good deal when they looked at anyone they admired.
But Syracuse was _awful_. I daresay it was nice enough when you could be
a tyrant and cut off your enemies' heads, and build gold statues to
yourself; but tyrants are out of their job now, and things have been
allowed to go down a good deal since their day. I nearly cried when I
saw what sort of hole it was, but our invitation to Sir Evelyn Haines'
(which we found waiting for us) wasn't for that day, but the next. It
was settled that we should go on by the first train in the morning, when
a telegram arrived for Lady B. She was in a twitter, and gave it to Pa
to read, and say what he thought. It was sent from Naples by a perfect
stranger to her, who signed his name James Van Wyck Payne; and as nearly
as I can remember, it said, "Beg that you will receive me at Syracuse.
Have travelled on from Rom