from Naples. The easiest way of getting there was by sea, so Irene's
luggage was wheeled down to the quay, and the family embarked on a
coasting steamer. Father and Mother were, of course, taking her, and
Vincent accompanied them, because they could not leave him alone in a
strange city.

"It will be your last holiday though, young man," said Mr. Beverley
jokingly, "so make the most of it. To-morrow you must come with me to
the office and start your new career. I don't know whether the Villa
Camellia observes convent rules, and whether you will be admitted. If
not, you must wait outside the gate while we see Miss Rodgers."

"Oh, surely she wouldn't be so heartless?"

"That remains to be seen. In a foreign country the regulations are
probably very strict."

The Beverleys were not the only British people on board the steamer.
Parties of tourists were going for the day's excursion, and as much
English as Italian or French might be heard spoken among the passengers.
Two groups, who sat near them on deck, attracted Irene's attention. The
central figure of the one was a girl slightly taller than herself--a
girl with a long, pointed nose, dark, hard, bright eyes, penciled
eyebrows, beautiful teeth, and a nice color. She was talking in a loud
and affected voice, and laying down the law on many topics to several
amused and smiling young naval officers who were of the party. An elder
girl, like her but with a sweeter mouth and softer eyes, seemed to be
trying to restrain her, and occasionally exclaimed, "Oh, Mabel!" at some
more than ordinary sally of wit; but the younger girl talked on, posing
in rather whimsical attitudes, and letting her roving glance stray over
the tourists close by, as if judging the effect she was making upon
them.

"She's showing off," decided Irene privately. "Is that 'Villa Camellia'
on the label of her bag? I hope to goodness she's not going to school
with me. Hello! Who's that talking English on the other side? Why,
Little Flaxen for all the world! What's she followed us down here for?"

The small, fair-haired girl, whom they had seen in the train to Dover,
was undoubtedly claiming public notice on their right. Her high-pitched,
childish voice was descanting freely about everything she saw, and
people smiled at her quaint questions and comments. Her mother, still
very pale and languid, made no effort to silence her, and her father
seemed rather to encourage her, and to exploit her remarks for t