"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 whole persuasive crew of them behind us!" The five-mile drive from Castellamare was part of the fun of the excursion, but Pompeii was, of course, the main object, and there was much excitement when they at last drew up at the great iron gate.

Miss Morley bought tickets for the party, and they were assigned a guide, a smiling Italian of superlative politeness, bearing a badge with the number 24 upon it.
"I asked for one who could speak English, but they're all out with other visitors," explained Miss Morley.

"Never mind.

It's a good opportunity of 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 when buried by the ashes of the great eruption of A.D.