safe from our enemies."

And Lucy found rising before her, instead of her own nursery, a huge
tree, on the top of a mound.[1] Basket-work had been woven between the
branches to make floors, and on these were huts of bamboo cane; there
were ladders hanging down made of strong creepers twisted together, and
above and around the cries of cockatoos and parrots and the chirp of
grasshoppers rang in her ears. She laid hold of the ladder of creeping
plants and began to climb, but soon her head swam, she grew giddy, and
called out to Lavo to help her. Then suddenly she found herself curled
up in Mrs. Bunker's big beehive chair, and she wondered whether she had
been asleep.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] See the _Net_, June 1, 1867.

CHAPTER III.

ITALY.

"SUPPOSE and suppose I could have such another funny dream," said Lucy.
"Mother Bunch, have you ever been to Italy?" and she put her finger on
the long leg and foot, kicking at three-cornered Sicily.

"Yes, Missie, that I have; come out of this cold room and I'll tell
you."

Lucy was soon curled in her chair; but no, she wasn't! she was under
such a blue, blue sky, as she had never dreamt of: clear sharp purple
hills rose up against it. There was a clear rippling little fountain,
bursting out of a rock, carved with old, old carvings, broken now and
defaced, but shadowed over by lovely maidenhair fern and trailing
bindweed; and in a niche above a little roof, sheltering a figure of the
Blessed Virgin. Some way off stood a long low house propped up against
the rich yellow stone walls and pillars of another old, old building,
and with a great chestnut-tree shadowing over it. It had a balcony, and
the gable end was open, and full of big yellow pumpkins and clusters of
grapes hung up to dry, and some goats were feeding round.

Then came a merry, merry voice singing something about _la vendemmia_;
and though Lucy had never learnt Italian, her wonderful dream knowledge
made her sure that this meant the vintage, the grape-gathering; and
presently there came along a little girl dancing and beating a
tambourine, with a basket fastened to her back, filled to overflowing
with big, beautiful bunches of grapes: and a whole party of other
children, all loaded with as many grapes as they could carry, came
leaping and singing after her; their black hair loose, or sometimes
twisted with vine-leaves; their big black eyes dancing with merriment,
and their bare brown legs with glee.

[Illus