la, and goodness knows
what else. When they reached Newhaven--when they forced her to descend
from the carriage--her eyes had a bewildered look. She had not seen
Newhaven at all. She had been watching the execution of Savonarola--she
standing in the middle of the great crowd in a square in Florence.

They stayed the night at the hotel at Newhaven. Next morning falsified
all Mr. Tom's malicious forecasts; the weather was fine, and they had a
smooth passage across. In due time they reached Paris.

To Nan, Paris meant picture-galleries. The streets were new-looking,
non-historical, filled with commonplace people; but in the
picture-galleries she was with great names, in great times.

'Nan,' her sisters remonstrated, 'what is the use of dawdling over
pictures like this? The Old Masters are all alike. There are plenty of
Holy Families and broken-necked angels in England. Why don't you put off
all this till you get back to the National Gallery?'

Fortunately, Nan was the most biddable of companions. She seemed to be
in dreamland. You could do what you liked with her if only you allowed
her to gaze with her great eyes, and think, and be silent.

Now it is unnecessary to follow in detail the various journeyings and
adventures of these three young ladies and their maid; we may pass on to
a certain evening when they found themselves in Lucerne. It was an
exceedingly hot evening; and after dinner the crowd in this great hotel
had been glad to pour out into the spacious verandah, which was formed by
a succession of arches all hanging with evergreens. There they formed
little groups round the small tables, lit up by the orange glow streaming
out from the windows of the hotel, some taking coffee, some smoking, all
chatting idly.

'It feels like thunder,' said Mary Beresford to her sister Edith. 'It
would be odd if we were to have a real thunderstorm just after listening
to the imitation one in the cathedral.'

'The _vox humana_ stop is better at some things than at others,' said
Miss Edith, critically. 'In the chanting the boys' voices are good, and
the tenor voices are good; but the bass is too musical. You hear that it
is the organ. And it vibrates too much.'

'They must make a good deal of money by it,' said the elder sister, 'in
the tourist season. I am sure there were a hundred people there.'

'I wish I knew the name of the piece. I should like to try one or two of
the airs.'

'It was considerate of