Lucy.

"I see no cushions to lie on."

"No; we have bedrooms, and beds there. We should not think of taking off
our clothes here."

"What should you undress for?"

"To sleep, of course."

"How horrible! We sleep in all our clothes wherever we like to lie down.
We never undress but for the bath. Do you go to the bath?"

"I have a bath every morning, when I get up, in my own room."

[Illustration: "I will show you where you live. This is Constantinople."

_Page 92._]

"Bathe at home! Then you never see your friends? We meet at the bath,
and talk and play and laugh."

"Meet bathing! No, indeed! We meet at home, and out of doors," said
Lucy; "my friend Annie and I walk together."

"Walk together! what, in the street? Shocking! You cannot be a lady."

"Indeed I am," said Lucy, colouring up. "My Papa is a gentleman. And see
how many books we have, and how much we have to learn! French, and
music, and sums, and grammar, and history, and geography."

"I _will_ not be a Frank! No, no! I will not learn," said the alarmed
Amina on hearing this catalogue poured forth.

"Geography is very nice," said Lucy; "here are our maps. I will show you
where you live. This is Constantinople."

"I live at Stamboul," said Amina, scornfully.

"There is Stamboul in little letters below--look."

"That Stamboul! The Frank girl is false; Stamboul is a large, large,
beautiful place; not a little black speck. I can see it from my lattice.
White houses and mosques in the sun, and the blue Golden Horn, with the
little caiques gliding."

Before Lucy could explain, the door opened, and one of her brothers put
in his head. At once Amina began to scream and roll herself in the
window curtain. "A man in the harem! Oh! oh! oh! Were there no slippers
at the door?" And her screaming brought Lucy awake at Uncle Joe's
again.

CHAPTER XI.

SWITZERLAND.

"I LIKED the mountain girl best of all," thought Lucy. "I wonder whether
I shall ever get among the mountains again. There's a great stick in the
corner that Uncle Joe calls his alpenstock. I'll go and read the names
upon it. They are all the mountains where he has used it."

She read Mount Blanc, Mount Cenis, the Wengern, and so on; and of course
as she read and sung them over to herself, they lulled her off into her
wonderful dreams, and brought her this time into a meadow, steep and
sloping, but full of flowers, the loveliest flowers, of all kinds,
growing among the long gras