There was a big dark room on the ground floor with an orange press, various agricultural implements, and numberless baskets for gathering fruit; there was a bare kitchen with a wood fire and a table spread with cups and dishes; then up a winding stair was a bedroom with walls colored sky blue, and a veranda that looked down over a glorious orange orchard.
"Oh, I'd adore to go out there!" said Irene, pointing to the path that led between the fruit-laden trees, and their hostess evidently divined her meaning, for she not only led her guests into the garden, but fetched a ladder, climbed a tree, and plucked each of them a whole cluster of oranges surrounded by a bunch of leaves.
The girls were so delighted with their entertainment in this Italian cottage that they hardly wished to tear themselves away, yet a vision of Miss Bickford's reproachful face began to hover before their eyes, and Lorna at last suggested that they must be moving.
"I hope those abominable boys aren't waiting about anywhere outside," shivered Irene.
The same thought seemed to have struck their hostess, for she called an elderly man, evidently her husband, who was pruning vines, and began a catechism as to where her visitors lived.

Lorna replied as well as her knowledge of Italian allowed, and at the mention of the Villa Camellia the pair nodded in comprehension.

After a brief conversation with his wife in an undertone the old man offered himself as guide, and undertook to escort the truants safely back to school again, a proposal which they thankfully accepted.

It would indeed have been difficult for them to find their own way among the various interlacing paths, and they were particularly glad to have his protection against possible _ragazzi_.
There was tremendous trouble waiting for them at the Villa Camellia.
Poor Miss Parr had collapsed almost into hysterics, and Miss Bickford with two other teachers had returned to the hillside on a further search, while Miss Rodgers was communicating by telephone with the Fossato police station, and offering a reward for any news of their whereabouts.

Irene had thought the principal could be stern, but she never knew how her eyes could flash before that interview in the study.
Both girls came out quaking like jellies and weeping for all to hear.
"Did you catch it hot ?" inquired Peachy, sympathetically linking arms with the truants.
"Rather! It isn't the punishments so much, it's that she made us so _ashamed_." "Our parole won't be trusted till after half-term." "We didn't _mean_ to run away." "It was really quite an accident." "Cheer up!" consoled Peachy.