a
rock.

'I'm not going any farther,' she observed.

'You can't stay here all night,' said her father.

'Well, I can't walk over this mountain all night. We don't get anywhere;
we merely move in circles. I don't think much of the guide you engaged.
He doesn't know his way.'

'He wasn't engaged to know his way,' Tony retorted. 'He was engaged to
wear earrings and sing Santa Lucia.'

Constance continued to sit on her rock while Tony went forward on a
reconnoitring expedition. He returned in ten minutes with the information
that there was a shepherd's hut not very far off with a shepherd inside
who would like to be friendly. If the signorina would deign to ask some
questions in the Italian language which she spoke so fluently, they could
doubtless obtain directions as to the way home.

They found the shepherd, the shepherdess and four little shepherds eating
their evening polenta in an earth-floored room, with half a dozen
chickens and the family pig gathered about them in an expectant group.
They rose politely and invited the travellers to enter. It was an event
in their simple lives when foreigners presented themselves at the door.

Constance commenced amenities by announcing that she had been walking on
the mountain since sunrise and was starving. Did they by chance have any
fresh milk?

'Starving! _Madonna mia_, how dreadful!' Madame held up her hands. But
yes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They kept four cows. That was their
business--turning milk into cheese and selling it on market day in the
village. Also they had some fresh mountain strawberries which Beppo had
gathered that morning--perhaps they too might be pleasing to the
signorina?

Constance nodded affirmatively, and added, with her eyes on the pig, that
it might be pleasanter to eat outside where they could look at the view.
She became quite gay again over what she termed their afternoon
tea-party, and her father had to remind her most insistently that if they
wished to get down before darkness overtook them they must start at once.
An Italian twilight is short. They paid for the food and presented a lira
apiece to the children, leaving them silhouetted against the sky in a
bobbing row shouting musical farewells.

Their host led them through the woods and out on to the brow of the
mountain in order to start them down by the right path. He regretted that
he could not go all the way, but the sheep had still to be brought in for
the night. At the