'Ah! here you are! Don't kill yourselves.

Plenty of time--for us! Listen--there's the bell--eight o'clock--now they open the doors.
Goodness!--Look at the rush--and those little Italian chaps tackling those strapping priests.

Go it, ye cripples!' Lucy tamed her run to a quick walk, and Mr.Reggie took care of her, while Manisty disappeared ahead with Mrs.Burgoyne, and Aunt Pattie fell to the share of a certain Mr.Vanbrugh Neal, an elderly man tall and slim, and of a singular elegance of bearing, who had joined them at the Piazza, and seemed to be an old friend of Mr.Manisty's.
Lucy looked round her in bewilderment.

Before the first stroke of the bell the Piazza of St.Peter's had been thickly covered with freely moving groups, all advancing in order upon the steps of the church.

But as the bell began to speak, there was a sudden charge mostly of young priests and seminarists--black skirts flying, black legs leaping--across the open space and up the steps.
'Reminds me of nothing so much'-- said Reggie laughing back over his shoulder at a friend behind--'as the charge of the Harrow boys at Lord's last year--when they stormed the pavilion--did you see it ?--and that little Harrow chap saved the draw?
I say!--they've broken the line!--and there'll be a bad squash somewhere.' And indeed the attacking priests had for a moment borne down the Italian soldiers who were good-naturedly guarding and guiding the Pope's guests from the entrance of the Piazza to the very door of the church.