ings they had in their ears and
noses. Lucy was distressed about Uncle Joseph's knives and forks,
which she knew she ought not to give away; but while she was looking
about for Mrs. Bunker to interfere, Don seemed to think it his
business and began to growl and fly at the little black legs.

"A tree, a tree!" cried the Isabelites, "where's a tree?" And while
they spoke, Lavo had climbed up the side of the door, and was sitting
astride on the top of it, grinning down at the dog; and his sister
had her feet on the lock, going up after him.

"Tree houses," they cried; "there we are safe from our enemies."

And Lucy found rising before her, instead of her own nursery, a huge
tree, on the top of a mound. 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.

CHAPTER III.

ITALY.

"If 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 a blue, blue sky, as she had never dreamt of; clear, sharp,
purple hills rose up against it. There was a 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, 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 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 su