The Jolliest School of All

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER VIII

  At Pompeii

  Lorna returned to Fossato feeling as if she had passed through a greatcrisis. The short week-end and its revelation seemed to have added yearsto her life. She had never been a typical specimen of "sparklinggirlhood," but her new knowledge made her more sedate than ever. Itbrought her both gain and loss: gain in the fact that she now shared herfather's confidence, and could help him to bear his heavy burden, andloss in the sense of a yet wider division between herself and herschoolmates. She realized now, only too bitterly, why her father sopersistently shunned all English people. It would surely have beenbetter to have placed her at an Italian school than among girls of herown nationality. Lorna, naturally morbid and over-sensitive, shrank yetdeeper into her shell, and became more sphinx-like than ever. Her onebright spot at the Villa Camellia was her devotion to her buddy. Half adozen other girls had at various periods tried to "take Lorna up," butall had promptly dropped her, declaring that they could not get anyfurther, and that she was a solitary "hermit-crab." Irene, after one ortwo ventures, realized that Lorna was utterly reserved anduncommunicative, but was content to continue the friendship on aone-sided basis, giving confidences, but receiving none in return. Shewas a little laughed at in certain quarters on the subject of her chum.

  "Hope you like crab sauce."

  "We're tickled to bits at the pair of you."

  "It won't last long."

  "Shall we give you an oyster-opener for a birthday present?"

  "You've got the champion chestnut-bur of the school--aren't you full ofprickles?"

  "Go on!" smiled Irene calmly. "I've been teased all my life by mybrother, so I'm pretty well bomb-proof. Say just what you like. I'm sureI don't care."

  It really did not trouble Irene that Lorna should cling to this habit ofcloseness. She had so many affairs of her own in which to be interested.She had spent a glorious half-term holiday with her family in their flatat Naples, and was delighted to describe every detail of herexperiences. She chatted about her relations till Lorna knew Mr. andMrs. Beverley and Vincent absolutely well by hearsay, though she hadnever met them in the flesh. The accounts of their doings gave her apeep of home life such as she had not hitherto realized.

  "Lovely to be you," she ventured once.

  "You must come and see us," replied Irene impulsively. "I'll get Motherto ask you some day. Don't look so scared. They wouldn't eat you. Don'tyou like paying visits? Oh well, of course, if you don't want to come Iwon't worry you. No, I'm not offended. Why should I be? Let everybodyplease herself is my motto. Oh, _don't_ apologize, for it really doesn'tmatter in the very least! I'd far rather people were frank and said whatthey thought."

  "I'm going with you to Pompeii to-morrow at any rate," said Lorna. "I'mglad they've put us both down together for that excursion."

  It was part of the educational scheme of Miss Rodgers and Miss Morleythat the girls should be taken to certain places of interest in theneighborhood. They were carefully prepared in class beforehand, so thatthey should thoroughly understand what they were going to see. All theschool studied Greek and Roman history, and since Christmas there hadbeen special lectures by Miss Morley on the buried city of Pompeii,illustrated by lantern-slides. But photography, however excellent, is apoor substitute for reality when the latter can be obtained. Had theVilla Camellia been situated in England or America no doubt the pupilswould have considered those views a tremendous asset to their historyclass, but being in the near neighborhood of Naples they were able to"go one better," and have actual expeditions to Pompeii itself. A dozenof the girls, personally conducted by Miss Morley, were to start onThursday, take their lunch, and make a day of it. Most of those chosenwere comparative newcomers to the school, or for some reason had notdone the excursion before, so it would be a fresh experience to nearlyall of them. Six seniors and six members of the Transition made up theparty, with little Desiree Legrand tagged on at the last as a mascot,because Stella and Carrie had pointed out that twelve pupils and onemistress would make thirteen at table if they had tea together, andthough Miss Morley had scoffed at such ridiculous superstition, she tookDesiree all the same to break the possible bad luck. They had thesatisfaction of assembling in the hall for the start exactly as theircompanions were filing into classrooms.

  "Got your nose-bag?" asked Delia, indicating her lunch satchel. "Itwouldn't do to leave those behind. I always feel famished when I'm outsightseeing. Hope I shan't eat my lunch before the picnic. Renie, it'sno use lugging that camera with you. You won't be allowed to take anyphotos inside the ruins, so I warn you."

  "Miss Morley's taking hers," objected Irene, loath to relinquish theobject in question.

  "Miss Morley has a special government permit to sketch or photo inPompeii. Nobody may take the slightest snap-shot or drawing without.I've been once before, so I know, Madam Doubtful. You'll see ever somany officials will ask to look at Miss Morley's ticket. Why? Becausethe place would get choked up with artists I suppose. And also they wantto sell their own photos. You'll be pestered to buy post-cards outsidethe gates."

  "I'd adore to get just one or two snaps," persisted Irene. "I won't takethis big camera, but I'll slip my wee one inside my pocket, and see if Ifind a chance."

  "Are you ready, girls?" came Miss Morley's voice from the porch, and thewaiting thirteen formed into double line and marched.

  They were to go by the electric tram from Fossato to Castellamare, fromwhich it was only a comparatively short drive to Pompeii. The jogging,jolting, little tramcar ran along the coast, linking up several townsand villages and conveying people intent on either business or pleasure.There were many visitors anxious to make the excursion to-day, but thecontingent from the Villa Camellia had posted themselves by the statueof Garibaldi in the square, and scrambled for the car as soon as itarrived, boarding it with three hatless Italian girls, two women withorange baskets, a sailor carrying a little boy, and a stout old padre,who apologized prettily for pushing.

  "We did those folks from the Hotel Royal," chuckled Delia, sitting onIrene's knee for lack of further accommodation. "Did you ever see a tramfill up quicker? I'm afraid I'm heavy. I know I'm an awful lump. We'lltake it in turns, and I'll nurse you after a while. I call this ratherpriceless. Everybody's good-tempered even if they do hustle. They don'tseem to mind people treading on their toes. It's infectious. I catchmyself smiling, and I'd jolly well frown as a rule if any one yanked abasket into my back."

  "I think it's the climate," remarked Irene. "In a London tram most facesdon't look too cheerful, but with this sky overhead people are simplychirping like crickets. It's like a perpetual summer holiday."

  The car was rattling along the steep coast road through miles ofglorious scenery. On the left was an ultramarine sea, with white-sailedboats, and to the right lay cliffs and olive groves. Some of the treeswere covered with catkins, and others had already burst into green leaf;gorgeous yellow genistas clothed the hillsides, and the banks weredappled with blue borage and marigolds. There were so many things tolook at from either window of the tram; goats were feeding along thecrags, and a gray businesslike battle-ship was wending its way acrossthe harbor in the direction of Naples. They passed through several smalltowns or villages, getting a vivid impression of the lives of theinhabitants, who, on sunny days, seemed to do much of their domesticwork out of doors, and to peel potatoes, wash salads, cook on charcoalbraziers, sew, mend shoes, make lace, and pursue many other vocations onthe pavements in front of the houses, and so far from being disturbed byonlookers, would smile and even wave friendly hands at the strangers onthe tramcar.

  "That darling old soul in the green apron blew me a kiss," chuckledDelia. "She looks as happy as a queen, though she's probably living onabout ten cents a day."

  "Did you see them dressing the baby on the pavement?" squealed Stella."They were winding it round and round in yards of bandages _exactly_like old Italian pictures. I didn't know it was done nowadays."

  "Oh! Look at the carts drawn by bullocks."


  "And the lamb with its fleece all combed out and tied with blueribbons."

  "That's because it's Mid-Lent."

  "Don't you see the baby donkey? There! Quick!"

  In her efforts to watch everything at once Delia craned her neck throughthe window of the car and away went her school hat, sailing over abridge and down into a deep ravine below, lost forever so far as she wasconcerned, as the tram certainly would not stop and wait while shesearched for it.

  "You've come down a peg in life, old sport, that's all," laughedCarrie. "In Italy wearing a hat is a sign of gentility. No work-girlever has one on her head even on Sundays. I offered a cast-off of mineto the _bonne_ at a hotel once, and she eyed it longingly, but said shedaren't wear it if she took it, her friends would think it such swank."

  "What do they have on in church then?" asked Delia.

  "Handkerchiefs, of course. Every Neapolitan has one handy to slip roundher head at the church door. It must save millinery bills."

  "And they all have the most beautiful hair. Hello! Here we are at theterminus. What a crowd of beggars. They look like brigands waiting topounce on us. Help!"

  Once out of the shelter of the tramcar the girls made the unpleasantdiscovery that in Italy begging is not forbidden, but quite a recognizedprofession with certain of the poorer classes. They were immediatelysurrounded by a ragged rabble, some of whom exhibited sores or otherunsightly afflictions to compel compassion, and all of whom held outdirty hands and persistently clamored for money. The blind, the halt,and the maimed were there, evidently regarding tourists as theirlegitimate prey, and bent upon claiming all the charity they could get.

  "Don't give them anything," commanded Miss Morley, anxiously keeping herlittle flock in tow, and shepherding them towards the piazza where thecarriages could be hired. "Just say _Niente_, and shake your heads. Holda safe hand on your purses and stick together. Don't get separated onany account."

  With considerable difficulty they forced their way across the square,and thankfully took refuge in several waiting landaus, whose drivers,feeling sure of their patronage, promptly raised their terms high abovethe ordinary tariff. It was only after much bargaining on the part ofMiss Morley that they consented to fix a reasonable sum for theexcursion to Pompeii.

  "Miss Morley talks Italian like a native, so they can't 'do' her,"rejoiced Stella proudly. "Aren't they the absolute limit? No, I _don't_want to buy a comb, or corals, or brooches, or post-cards, or anything.They seem to think we're made of money. Why can't they let us alone?There, thank goodness, we're off at last and can leave the wholepersuasive crew of them behind us!"

  The five-mile drive from Castellamare was part of the fun of theexcursion, but Pompeii was, of course, the main object, and there wasmuch excitement when they at last drew up at the great iron gate. MissMorley bought tickets for the party, and they were assigned a guide, asmiling Italian of superlative politeness, bearing a badge with thenumber 24 upon it.

  "I asked for one who could speak English, but they're all out with othervisitors," explained Miss Morley. "Never mind. It's a good opportunityof testing your Italian, and I can interpret if you don't understand."

  In spite of the lantern-slides which they had previously been shown,the girls had come with varying expectations of what they were to see.Some imagined they would walk into a Roman city exactly as it stood whenburied by the ashes of the great eruption of A.D. 79; others thoughtthere would be a few interesting things peeping up here and there amidmounds of cinders. None had imagined it would be so large.

  As a matter of fact the remains are simply the bare ruins of a towndestroyed by burning ashes, which have been extricated from the rubbishaccumulated during more than seventeen centuries. The paved streets andthe roofless and broken walls of the houses still remain, with here andthere some building that by a fortunate chance escaped, either in wholeor in part, the general catastrophe, and suffice to show the generalstyle and beauty of the Graeco-Roman architecture of the first century.The guide marshaled his party along, pointing out to them the variousobjects of interest that had been excavated, the beautiful marbledrinking-fountain, the marble counters of the shops, identical withthose still used in Southern Italy, the wine jars of red earthenware,the hand-mills for grinding corn, the brick ovens, or the vaults wherewine had been stored. They went into the site of the ancient market, andthe Forum and several temples, and walked up long flights of steps andadmired rows of broken columns, and saw the public swimming-baths withtheir tasteful wall decorations and the niches where the bathers hadplaced their clothes, and they admired the law-courts, and marveled atthe great theater that had been wont to hold five thousand spectators.

  The general impression was one of utter desolation. The mighty ruins layin the bright Italian sunshine, and, close above, Vesuvius frowned overthe scene, as if still watching the result of his deadly handiwork. Whohad lived in those blackened fire-swept houses, and walked in thosegrass-grown streets? It was difficult to imagine the busy throngingcrowds that once must have peopled all these silent haunts, where theonly signs of life were the little green lizards that darted over thecrumbling walls.

  Certain of the best houses were railed round and kept carefully locked,and inside these could be seen what was left of the domestic life ofcivilized Pompeii. The girls enjoyed looking at the rooms in the CasaDei Vettii, with the exquisite paintings of cupids still left upon thescarlet walls, they laughed at the quaint mosaic of the chained dog withits warning _Cave Canem_ (Beware of the dog!), and they went intoecstasies over the lovely little statue of the Dancing Faun and someterracottas of Venus and Mercury. One link with the past was left in thefact that a few of the houses still preserved the names and even theportrait-busts of their former owners.

  "My! Doesn't he look boss of the place still? I wonder if I ought toleave my visiting card for him," declared Delia, staring at the greenmarble representation of Cecilius Giscondis, a banker by profession.

  The others laughed. They had all been feeling rather oppressed, and wereglad to break the ice.

  "I'm so tired, I should think we must have walked miles," groaned Lorna.

  "And I'm on the point of famishing," protested Irene, slapping herlunch-bag with a resounding smack.

  Miss Morley turned round at the sound, and possibly caught the remark,for she spoke hastily to the guide, then suggested that the girls shouldsit in a row on a fallen column and consume their provisions.

  "You all need a rest and something to eat now. Then we'll go on with oursightseeing, and have tea at the restaurant when we've finished," shedecreed.

  Never were ham sandwiches and oranges so acceptable. Viewing ruins maybe extremely interesting, but it is a highly fatiguing occupation, andDelia at least had reached the stage of the over-burdened camel.

  "I guess I don't like anything B.C. It's too depressing. Give me Paris!"she declared tragically.

  "Cheer up, old sport!" consoled Irene. "I'm going to take a snap-shotof some of us when the guide isn't looking. You shall be in it. You'dlike to send some prints to your friends in America, wouldn't you?"

  "Rather! They'd burst with envy to see me photographed inside Pompeii.Where are you going to take us? I've finished my lunch. Let's get busyquick, before the guide comes round the corner."

  Delia was prancing with eagerness. She flitted about like a butterfly,bent on choosing the best position for the desired snap-shot. Blanche,Mabel, and Elsie came hurrying up anxious to join the group, and fixedthemselves in elegant poses.

  "Oh, I can't put in such a crowd," objected Irene. "You block out thewhole of the view. I only want Delia and Lorna, and yes, I'll haveDesiree, but nobody else. Please clear out of the way."

  "Well, really!"

  "You mean thing!"

  "We don't want to be in your old photo!"

  Irene had felt cross and was possibly impolite, but she was not preparedfor the Nemesis that descended upon her head. She had just congratulatedherself that Blanche, Mabel, and Elsie had beaten a retreat and th
at shehad been able to take her snap-shot so successfully, when who shouldmake his unwelcome appearance but the guide, catching her in the veryact of winding on her film. He sighed sorrowfully, and spread out hishands with a dramatic Italian gesture.

  "Signorina! Non e permesso!" he objected.

  "'SIGNORINA! IT IS NOT PERMITTED!'"

  --Page 105]

  "I'm awfully sorry. I won't do it again, really," murmured Irene,cramming the little camera back into her pocket.

  But this apology did not content No. 24. He very courteously, but quitefirmly, insisted upon temporarily confiscating the prohibited article.Miss Morley, who hurried up at the sound of the altercation, took theside of the authorities.

  "Who brought a camera? _Irene!_ You knew it was not allowed. Yes, youmust let the guide have it. He'll give it back to you at the gate. Ihope there won't be any trouble about it. I believe you can be fined. Itwas very naughty of you to do such a thing."

  Much crestfallen Irene retired into the rear of the party, and bewailedthe fate of her snap-shots.

  "It was hard luck the guide should pop round the corner that exactminute," she groaned.

  "Mabel fetched him," squeaked Desiree. "I could see over the railing,and I watched her go. She was mad that you wouldn't put her in thephoto."

  "What a sneaking trick to play. She's the _meanest_ girl. I wouldn'thave told about _her_. I hope No. 24 won't take the spool out of thecamera, because there are three undeveloped snaps of the Villa Camelliaon it, and I shall be wild if I lose them. He couldn't be so heartless.If I only knew Italian better I'd try and coax him."

  The guide had obligingly waited while the girls ate lunch, but he nowwaxed impatient, and hurried his party on to the House of Pansa. Thismust have been quite a palatial residence, and showed such perfectexamples of the arrangement of the various rooms in a Roman mansion thatthey lingered a long time looking at the _atrium_, the _tablinum_, theperistyle, and the kitchen with its curious mosaics of snakes. Now,though it was all very interesting, it was certainly tiring, and some ofthe girls grew weary of listening to the guide's descriptions in Italianor Miss Morley's explanations.

  "I'm bored stiff," confessed Delia, in a whisper, linking on to Irene'sarm. "If I have any more information crammed into my head it will burst.I know quite enough about ancient customs already. All I can say is I'mthankful I'm living now instead of then. Renie, if you love me, take meout of ear-shot of Miss Morley and let me chatter and frivol."

  "Poor old sport!" laughed Irene. "Let's slip away and take another turnround the garden while the guide finishes haranguing. I'm out of friendswith him since he stole my camera. He doesn't deserve anybody to listento him. I've a few chocs left in this package. You shall have some tocheer you up. They're modern at any rate."

  "You mascot!" murmured Delia. "Stella says I'm a Goth, but why _need_ Ilike old things? Did the Pompeians take their schoolgirls to look atburied Greek cities, or were they satisfied with their own times? Howsoon do you think we shall have tea? These chocs have saved my life, butI'm longing for bread and butter and buns."

  "Why, we haven't finished lunch very long."

  "I ate more than half of mine in the carriage, so I hadn't much left.Hello! Where have the others been? I didn't know there was a way upthere."

  The rest of the party were clattering down a flight of wooden steps withmany expressions of admiration for what they had seen at the top.

  "Perfectly beautiful! The finest view of all," purred Miss Morley."Renie and Delia, didn't you go up? You silly girls. You've missed atreat. No, I'm afraid we can't wait now. The guide is anxious to take uson. We haven't seen the House of Sallust yet or the Street of Tombs. Iwant to ask him whether they've been doing any more excavations near theHerculaneum Gate."

  Miss Morley, deep in conversation with No. 24, passed on, in the fullbelief that all her flock were following behind her. Irene and Delia,however, were determined to have just one peep at the view from the topof the wall, so both made a dash up the wooden staircase. From herethere was a glorious prospect of the entire city with its arches andcolumns and broken temples, its cypress trees, and its somber backgroundof smoking mountain. They could see exactly the way they had come fromthe entrance, and could tell which was the Street of Fortune and whichthe Street of Abundance. It was so fascinating that they lingered ratherlonger than they intended.

  "They'll be waiting for us," ventured Irene at last.

  "Oh, bother! So they will," exclaimed Delia, rushing down prepared for ascolding.

  But the others had not waited. They had all simply walked on, and thecustodian had locked the gate behind them. It was fast closed, and noamount of shaking would move it.

  "We're shut in," gasped Irene. "Where's the porter? He ought to besomewhere about with the key."

  The custodian, quite oblivious of the fact that anybody had been leftinside the House of Pansa, was reading a newspaper and eating bread andgarlic under his wooden shed farther down the street, where he wouldremain till the next guide came along with a party and requestedadmission. So he did not hear, though the girls thumped and called andmade a very considerable noise. They were both horribly frightened.

  "Shall we have to stay here all night?"

  "I'd be scared to death."

  "Think of the spooks!"

  "Why the whole place must be simply _chock-full_ of ghosts aftersunset."

  "Couldn't we jump from the wall?"

  "I wish I'd never come. Oh, I hate things B.C.! I shall have fits in aminute."

  Fortunately for Delia's nerves they were not kept long in durance vile.Lorna very soon discovered the loss of her buddy, drew Miss Morley'sattention to the matter, and the whole party hastened back to look forthem. The custodian was fetched from his wooden shelter and unlocked thedoor, loudly disclaiming any responsibility on his part, and blaming theguide.

  "It's your own fault," scolded Miss Morley. "You really _must_ keep withthe party. I can't have any of you wandering off alone. You can't expectme to count you every time we come out of a building. I put you on yourparole not to get separated again."

  "We won't indeed, _indeed_! We don't like being lost," promised thedelinquents earnestly.

  Everybody, including the Principal, was very tired by this time, and notaltogether sorry when the guide finished his tour of the ruins, andconducted them safely back again to the entrance.

  "It's glorious, but you want days to see it in, instead of only a fewhours," sighed Phyllis.

  "And cast-iron backs and legs," agreed Sybil. "I shall enjoy thinking itover when I'm home, but I'm ready to drop at the present moment."

  "What about my camera?" asked Irene anxiously.

  The guide had not forgotten it; he produced it from his pocket,and--perhaps in consideration of the tip he had received from MissMorley--he did not confiscate the spool, but handed it over intact witha polite gesture and a cryptic smile.

  "Grazie molto--_molto_!" murmured Irene, which meant "Thanks awfully,"and was one of the very few Italian phrases which she knew.

  Everybody was extremely glad to adjourn to the restaurant, where tea hadbeen ordered for their party, and a table reserved for them. The bigroom was full of visitors and rather noisy; a band of musicians in thecenter rendered Neapolitan songs to an accompaniment of mandolins andguitars, and occasionally the audience joined the choruses. Theperformance was not of the highest quality, but it was tuneful andinteresting to those who had not before heard the folk-songs of SouthernItaly. After tea the girls made a rush to buy post-cards and othermementoes of Pompeii, which were on sale in a room next to therestaurant, and would have spent half an hour over their purchases hadnot Miss Morley collected her flock and insisted on a homeward start.Poor little Desiree slept all the way back in the tramcar, with her headon Stella's shoulder, and most of the party were in much more soberspirits than when they had started. All felt, however, that it was anever-to-be-forgotten experience.

  "I'd adore to go again sometime," ventured Lorna, clasping a model of
aPompeian lamp, which her chum had given her for a souvenir.

  "So would I," agreed Irene. "Miss Morley calls this 'part of oureducation,' and I think it's a very sensible way of teaching things. Ihope she'll take us to other places."

  "You'll get Vesuvius if your conduct sheet is all right."

  "Oh, lovely! I'd rather go there than even to Pompeii."

  "The same this child," chipped in Delia. "Renie, I guess you and I willhave to shake ourselves up and reform for a week or two. We were in MissMorley's black book to-day, and if we don't take care we shall be leftout of the next excursion."

  "I'll be an absolute saint," promised Irene. "You'll see me sproutingwings. I'm going to draw a physical map of the world and mark in all theprincipal volcanoes, and then show it to Miss Morley. She'll think it sobrainy of me and be so glad I'm interested in the subject. She'd reallyfeel I ought to see Vesuvius after that."

  "You schemer! It's not a bad idea though, and perhaps I'll do the same,though I hate drawing maps. Hello! Is this the piazza? I'd no idea we'dgot back to Fossato so soon. Yes, it's been a 'happy day,' but I feelall I want now is supper and bed."