ain after dark we arrived at Lieva
Rieka, to find our dirty old inn again; but it had a real iron stove
which gave out a glorious heat, and we crowded around in the ill-lit
room, clouds of steam arising from us. We tried to dry our stockings
against the stove pipe, but the old mother did not approve. She was
afraid of fire. When she ran out of the room, socks were pressed
surreptitiously against the pipe with a "sizz," and when she returned,
innocent looking people were standing against the wall, no socks to be
seen.

The eldest daughter settled down with her head in Jo's hip, having
failed to get Miss Brindley alongside. She gazed longingly at Miss
Brindley from Jo's lap, and asking for all the data possible as to her
life.

"A devoika (girl), free, travelling from a country so far away that it
would take three months in an oxcart to get there."

"Oh, how wonderful!"

They gave us a tiny room and two benches--much too small for the whole
company; so some slept outside on the balcony.

The professor was in the adjoining inn, so we guessed it must be the
best; but a young French sailor, from the wireless in Podgoritza, who
came to gossip with us, said there was nothing to choose.

He was champing, as the Government were commandeering the wireless
company's motor cars right and left using them to cart benzine; and now
they were going to send a refugee Serb officer's family to Podgoritza in
his motor, leaving him sitting.

We spent the next morning waiting for the motor, not knowing if it would
arrive or no. The professor sailed away in the French one, being one up
on us again. It still rained, so we sat contemplating the possibilities
of lunch. No sooner was it on the boil than the biggest automobile in
Montenegro, a covered lorry, turned up.

We persuaded the driver to lunch with us, and packed ourselves and our
dingy packages on to the wet floor. The motor buzzed up and downhill,
incessantly twisting and turning: what we could see of the view from the
back waved to and fro like Alpine scenery seen in the cinematograph.
Stajitch became violently seasick with the fumes of benzine, which arose
from two big tanks we were taking along, and lay with his head lolling
miserably out of the back of the car.

Pod once more, sleepy, inhospitable Pod.

We bargained for rooms at our old inn--mixed beds and floors. The owner
was asking more than ever; he shrugged his shoulders and raised his
hands.

"The war--increasing