"I shall enjoy thinking it over 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 Miss Morley--he did not confiscate the spool, but handed it over intact with a 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 had been ordered for their party, and a table reserved for them.

The big room was full of visitors and rather noisy; a band of musicians in the center rendered Neapolitan songs to an accompaniment of mandolins and guitars, and occasionally the audience joined the choruses.

The performance was not of the highest quality, but it was tuneful and interesting to those who had not before heard the folk-songs of Southern Italy.

After tea the girls made a rush to buy post-cards and other mementoes of Pompeii, which were on sale in a room next to the restaurant, and would have spent half an hour over their purchases had not Miss Morley collected her flock and insisted on a homeward start.
Poor little Desiree slept all the way back in the tramcar, with her head on Stella's shoulder, and most of the party were in much more sober spirits than when they had started.

All felt, however, that it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience.
"I'd adore to go again sometime," ventured Lorna, clasping a model of a Pompeian lamp, which her chum had given her for a souvenir.
"So would I," agreed Irene.