The Jolliest School of All by Angela Brazil (the best ebook reader for android TXT) 📖

as Britannia and Columbia, supported the Union Jack and the Stars and Strips together with a bunch of camellias as a delicate compliment to the school; Jess, in plaid and tam-o'-shanter, stood for her native Scotland; Peachy, with fringed leather leggings and cowboy's hat, was a ranch-girl; Joan in a somewhat similar costume represented "the bush" in Australia; Sheila in a white coat trimmed plentifully with cotton wool made a pretty Canada; Irene was an Irish colleen; Mary, with bunches of mimosa, typified South Africa; and Esther, gorgeous in Oriental drapery and numerous necklaces, was an Indian princess. But perhaps the most successful costume of all was Lorna's. She had been chosen to take the character of New Zealand, and was dressed in a pale yellow wrapper decorated with beautiful sprays of tinted leaves. Round her head was a garland of orange blossoms, and in her arms she held great branches of oranges and lemons, to typify the fruits of the country she was impersonating. With Lorna's dark eyes and hair the effect was most striking. She kept her pose admirably, scarcely blinking an eyelid, though Mary palpably moved, and even[139] Joan was guilty of a smile. The audience, immensely surprised and pleased with the tableau, clapped enthusiastically. It was felt to be a very fitting finish to the festival.

"You kept your secret well, girls," said Miss Morley, as she congratulated them afterwards. "I'm sure nobody had the least hint. It was charmingly thought out and arranged. Come along now and have some tea. It has really been a most successful afternoon."

Audience and performers, the latter in all the glory of their pretty costumes, mingled together now for conversation and tea-drinking. Irene quickly joined her family, and had much to say to them, and many questions to ask about their doings in Naples.

"I say, Renie," whispered Vincent, suddenly interrupting her, "tell me who's that lovely girl? She looked the best in the whole of your tableau."

Irene followed his glance to the yellow-clad figure handing the teacups which Miss Morley was filling.

"That's Lorna. One of my best chums. Yes, that costume suits her. I want to bring her to speak to Mother. Yes, Lorna, you must come. I simply shan't let you run away. Mummie darling, this is Lorna. We room together, you know."

Lorna, dragged forward much against her will to be introduced, stood shy and blushing, but her heightened color and evident confusion added to her attraction, and several heads were turned to glance at her among the guests in that quarter of the room.[140] It was not until this occasion of the carnival that any one at the Villa Camellia had recognized Lorna as a budding beauty.

"You ought always to wear yellow," Peachy said to her afterwards. "It's quite your color. By the by, who chooses your clothes for you?"

"Miss Rodgers generally takes me to Naples and buys them."

"She's no taste. Her ideas run to a gym suit and a school panama and nothing beyond. I'll give you a tip. Next time you need an evening dress or a Sunday jumper, engineer it so Miss Morley does the shopping. She'll get you something pretty, I'll guarantee. She chose that blue crêpe de chine for Delia. Don't forget. And don't look so fearfully surprised. If you haven't thought about your clothes before it's time you did. My dear, you'll pay dressing. Come close and I'll whisper to you: some of those Stars are just too jealous of you for words. I'm tickled to bits."[141]

CHAPTER XI Up Vesuvius

On a certain day towards the end of March, Miss Morley, who usually acted as cicerone and general guide, arranged to take a select little party up Vesuvius. Irene, Lorna, Peachy, and Delia were among the favored few, and congratulated themselves exceedingly. It is certainly not an every-day occurrence for schoolgirls to view a volcano, and this particular excursion, being long and difficult, was kept as a special treat, and was regarded as the titbit of the various expeditions from the Villa Camellia. Many of the girls had, of course, made it on former occasions, but to those whom Miss Morley was escorting to-day it was all new.

"I was to have gone last autumn," confided Peachy, "but the fact is I got into a little fix with Miss Rodgers, and she started on the rampage and canceled my exeat. I cried till I was simply a sopping sponge, but she was a perfect crab that day. Lorna, weren't you to have gone too once before?"

"Yes, and got toothache. Just like my luck. There the others were starting off, and I was sitting by the stove with a swollen face, dabbing on belladonna, and Miss Rodgers careering round telling[142] me I must have it out. Ugh! My ailments always turn up when I'm going anywhere."

"Well, you're all right to-day at any rate," consoled Delia, rather unsympathetically.

"If I don't get seasick on the boat."

"Oh, buck up! You mustn't. We'll throw you overboard to the fishes if you do anything so silly. For goodness' sake don't any one start symptoms and spoil the fun. Where's Miss Morley? I'm just aching to be off."

The party left Fossato by the early morning steamer and went straight to Naples. They drove from the quay to the station, then took the little local train for Vesuvius. Italian railways generally provide scant accommodation for the number of passengers, so there ensued a wild scramble for seats, and it was only by the help of the conductor, whom she had judiciously tipped, that Miss Morley managed to keep her flock together, and settle them in one of the small saloon carriages. Here they were wedged pretty tightly among native Italians, and tourists of various nations, including some voluble Swedes and a company of dapper Japanese gentlemen, who were seeing Europe. After much pushing, crowding, shouting, and gesticulation on the part of both the public and officials, the train at last started and pursued its jolting and jerky way. It ran first through the poorer district of Naples, where dilapidated houses, whose faded walls showed traces of former gay pink, blue, or yellow color-wash, stood[143] in the midst of vegetable gardens; then, the slums left behind, the line passed a long way among vineyards and orchards of almond, peach, and cherry that were just bursting into glorious lacy blossom. The railway banks were gay with the flowers which March scatters in Southern Italy, red poppies, orange marigolds, lupins, campanulas, purple snapdragons, and wild mignonette, growing anywhere among stones and rocks, with the luxuriance that in northern countries is reserved for June.

At Torre Annunziata the party from the Villa Camellia all crowded to the carriage window, for Miss Morley had something to point out to them.

"We're passing over the lava formed by the great eruption in 1906. The whole of the railway line and ever so many houses were buried then. Don't you see bits of them peeping out over there?"

"Why, yes, it looks like cinders," commented Lorna.

"They're great masses of crumbling lava turning into soil. Wait till we get farther on, then you'll see lava more in its raw stage. Very soon we shall be passing over the top of Herculaneum. The ancient city lies buried thirty feet below the surface."

"Aren't they ever going to excavate it like they did Pompeii?"

"The trouble is that the modern town of Pugliano is built over the top, and naturally the owners don't want their houses pulled down, whatever treasures in the way of Greek or Roman antiquities may lie[144] buried underneath. Isn't the view of the Bay of Naples beautiful from here?"

"Yes, and the flowers. It's like fairyland."

At Pugliano the party left the train, and after a long and tiresome wait at the station changed to the light electric railway that was to take them up Vesuvius. The little carriage resembled a tramcar, and its wide glass windows afforded excellent views of the scenery en route. Up—up—up they went, gradually getting higher and higher. It was marvelous how the vegetation altered as they ascended. The cactuses, olives, almonds, and peach orchards gave way to hillsides covered with small chestnut, oak, or poplar trees, and the poppies and daisies were succeeded by broom bushes and clumps of rosemary. They were getting on to the region of the lava, and all the ground was brown, like newly turned peat. Men were busy digging terraces in the volcanic earth, to plant vines, working calmly as if the great cone above them had never belched forth fire and ashes.

"How dare they live here?" shuddered Peachy, pointing to the tiny dwellings which had been reared here and there. "When they see all the ruin round them, aren't they afraid? What makes them go back?"

"The ground is so rich," explained Miss Morley. "Nothing grows vines so splendidly as volcanic earth. The people get fatalistic, and think it worth risking their lives to have these fruitful little farms. They[145] say the mountain may not be angry again for years, and they will take their chance."

"It's smoking now," said Lorna.

"I suppose it's safe?" asked Delia anxiously.

"Perfectly safe to-day or we shouldn't have been allowed to go up in the electric railway. Do you see that big building—the observatory? Careful investigations are made every day of the crater, and the results telegraphed down to Naples. If there were the slightest hint of danger the trains would be stopped and tourists turned back."

The journey was ever upwards, over great wastes of rough brown lava, which looked as if some giant, in play, had squeezed out the contents of enormous tubes of oil paint on to the mighty palette of the mountain side. The air had grown fresh and cold, for they were at an altitude approaching 4000 feet, and, but for the scenery, might have imagined themselves in Wales or Scotland.

The light railway ended at a small station, where there was the observatory and a hotel. All round were masses of enormous cinders, and above, a grim sight, towered the immense cone of Vesuvius. To scale the tremendous incline to the summit there was a funicular railway, to which our party now transferred themselves, sitting on seats raised one above another as in the gallery of a theater. It was here that, if the events of the day are to be truly chronicled, we must record a scrimmage between Irene and her chum, Peachy. The conductor of the light[146] railway had gathered a bunch of rosemary en route, and he now approached the funicular and bestowed his offering upon Peachy, who happened to be sitting nearest to the end. She was immensely gratified at the attention, sniffed the fragrant nosegay, and handed it on for admiration to Lorna, who, after also burying her nose in it, passed it to Irene. The latter ought to have realized it was not her own property, but unfortunately didn't. She calmly appropriated the bunch, and distributed it in portions to those nearest her. Peachy's cheeks flamed. She was a hot-tempered little soul underneath her gay banter.

"Well! Of all cool cheek," she exploded. "That was my bouquet. It was given to me, not to you, Renie Beverley. Next time you start being charitable use your own flowers, not mine. You haven't left me a single piece."

"I'm sorry," blushed Irene, trying to collect some portion at least of her offerings to hand back to the lawful owner. "I thought they were given to me."

"No, you didn't, you simply bagged them," snapped Peachy. "I'm not friends with you, so don't talk to me any more," and Peachy turned a red offended face out of the carriage window.

Irene might have apologized further, but the funicular gave a mighty jerk at that moment, and the carriage started. Up—up went the little train, working on wire ropes like a bucket coming out of a well. Higher and higher and higher it rose up[147] the terrific incline, over masses of cinders, towards the thick cloud of smoke that loomed above. It stopped at last at a big iron gate, which opened to admit the passengers on to the summit. Here the guides were waiting, and after some parleying in Italian, Miss Morley engaged a couple of them to escort her party. Led by these men, who knew every inch of the way, they started to walk to the crater of the volcano. A cinder path had been made along the edge of the cone, having on the left side a steep ridge of ashes, and on the right a sheer drop of many thousand feet. From this strange road there were weird and beautiful effects—for it was above the region of the clouds, which floated below, sometimes hiding the landscape, and sometimes revealing glorious stretches of country, with gleams of sunshine falling on the white houses of towns miles below,