Irma in Italy: A Travel Story Read online

  Produced by Heather Clark, Kerry Tani and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisbook was produced from scanned images of public domainmaterial from the Google Print project.)

  IRMA IN ITALY

  PERUGIA. _Frontispiece_ (_See page 205._)]

  IRMA IN ITALY

  A TRAVEL STORY

  BY

  HELEN LEAH REED

  AUTHOR OF "THE BRENDA BOOKS," "IRMA AND NAP," "NAPOLEON'S YOUNG NEIGHBOR," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS AND FROM DRAWINGS BY WILLIAM A. MCCULLOUGH

  BOSTON

  LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY

  1908

  _Copyright_, 1908, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

  _All rights reserved_

  The Tudor Press BOSTON, U. S. A.

  To M. E. F.

  A TRUE TRAVELLER

  CONTENTS

  PAGE

  I. THE START 1

  II. THE WESTERN ISLANDS 19

  III. TOWARD THE CONTINENT 39

  IV. AWAY FROM GIBRALTAR 60

  V. ON SHORE 80

  VI. NAPLES AND ITS NEIGHBORHOOD 98

  VII. CAVA AND BEYOND 111

  VIII. PAESTUM AND POMPEII 125

  IX. ROMAN DAYS 146

  X. A QUEEN AND OTHER SIGHTS 169

  XI. TIVOLI--AND HADRIAN'S VILLA 187

  XII. AN ANCIENT TOWN 203

  XIII. OLD SIENA--AND NEW FRIENDS 215

  XIV. NAP--AND OTHER THINGS 232

  XV. A LETTER FROM FLORENCE 251

  XVI. A CHANGE IN MARION 270

  XVII. IN VENICE 288

  XVIII. EXPLANATIONS 312

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  PAGE

  Perugia _Frontispiece_

  "I wish I could take them all," she said 6

  Naples. A Street View 84

  "With one girl clutching her dress, she could not move fast" 132

  Pompeii 144

  Near La Trinita, Rome 170

  Rome. Group on Spanish Steps 170

  Cascades at Tivoli 188

  Wall of Orvieto 188

  Spires of Florence 262

  San Marco, Florence 262

  Siena. General View with Campanile 292

  Ravenna. Theodoric's Tomb 292

  "As Irma approached, the girl looked up" 296

  Venice. The Grand Canal 308

  Venice. A Gondolier 308

  IRMA IN ITALY

  CHAPTER I

  THE START

  "OF course it's great to go to Europe; any one would jump at the chance,but still----"

  As the speaker, a bright-eyed girl of sixteen, paused, her companion,slightly younger, continued:

  "Yes, I know what you mean--it doesn't seem just like Irma to go awaybefore school closes. Why, if she misses the finals, she may have todrop from the class next year."

  "Probably she expects Italy to help her in her history and Latin."

  "Travelling is all very well," responded the other, "but there'snothing better than regular study. Why, here's Irma coming," sheconcluded hastily; "she can speak for herself."

  "You are surely gossiping about me," cried Irma pleasantly, as sheapproached her two friends seated on the front steps of Gertrude'shouse. "You have surely been gossiping, for you stopped talking as soonas you saw me, and Lucy looks almost guilty."

  "Listeners sometimes hear good of themselves," replied Lucy, "but we'lladmit we have been wondering how you made up your mind to run away fromschool. I shouldn't have dared."

  "My father and mother decided for me, when Aunt Caroline said she mustknow at once. There was some one else she would invite, if I couldn'tgo. I simply could not give up so good a chance to see Europe. But ofcourse I am sorry to leave school."

  "Now, Irma, no crocodile tears." Gertrude pinched her friend's arm asshe spoke. "Fond as I am--or ought to be--of school, I wouldn't thinktwice about leaving it all, if I had a chance to shorten this horridwinter."

  "Winter! And here we are sitting in the open air. In six weeks it willbe May, and you won't find a pleasanter month in Europe than our May,"protested Lucy.

  "We intend to have some fine picnics this spring; you'll lose them ifyou go," added Gertrude.

  "One can't have everything," sighed Irma. "I know that I must lose somegood things if I go away."

  "Examinations, for instance," cried George Belman, who had joined thegroup.

  "And promotions, perhaps," added John.

  "But still," continued George, "I say Irma deserves a change for herunselfishness in having whooping-cough last summer, just to keep Tessiecompany."

  "Well, it was considerate in Irma to get over it before school opened;stand up, dear, and let yourself be counted."

  "Oh, Gertrude, how silly you are!" but even while protesting Irma roseslowly to her feet, and her friends, looking at her, noticed that shewas paler and thinner than she had been a year earlier.

  "Come, now," said Lucy, rising, and affectionately slipping her armaround Irma's waist, "tell us your plans. Gertrude knows them, but Ihave heard only rumors."

  "I am not quite sure myself about it all. Only I am to sail with AuntCaroline and Uncle Jim to Naples by the southern route, and, after goingthrough Italy, we shall be home in July--and a niece of Aunt Caroline's,or rather of Uncle Jim's, is going with us."

  "You didn't tell _me_ that," interposed Gertrude. "You won't miss ushalf as much if you have another girl with you. I begin to be jealous."

  "If there were ten other girls in our party I'd miss my friends just asmuch," said Irma. "Besides, I'll be too busy to take an interest in meregirls."

  "Busy!" It was George who said this, with a little, mocking laugh.

  "Yes, busy; busy sightseeing and reading, and perhaps studying a little.For you know I must take a special examination in September. Howmortifying if I had to stay behind next year!"

  "Then I shall drop behind, too, or at least I should wish to," saidGeorge gallantly.

  "Did some one speak of summer?" asked Lucy, rising. "Now that the sunis low I am half frozen. Come, Irma, I will walk to your door with you,"and, after a word of farewell to the others, the two friends walked awaytogether.

  Irma, now in her second year in the High School, had really enjoyed herstudies, and she was sure that her ancient history was to be made muchmore vivid by her journey, and even the dry hours she had spent on Caesarwould count for much when she reached Italy. It was well, perhaps, thatIrma herself had little to do in preparing for her journey. As it was,it was hard enough to keep her mind on lessons those last weeks, whenthere was so much besides to think of. Still, the March days flew byswiftly. Irma was to sail from New York the Saturday before Easter,which this year came very early. A week before she was to start asteamer trunk arrived from New York, accompanied by a letter from AuntCaroline.

  "Your mother must have so much to do that I
wish to save her a little ofthe trouble of shopping," wrote Aunt Caroline, "and I do hope that thesewill fit you."

  "I can't see that the steamer rug is a very close fit," said Rudolph,laughing, as Irma held up the warm-looking square of blue and greenplaid. "But the Panama hat's all right,--only the rug and the hat willlook rather queer together."

  Into the steamer trunk during the week Irma put many little things thatthe girls at school--and indeed some of the boys--gave her as partinggifts.

  "I wish I could take them all," she said, as she stood beside the trunk."But there are so many duplicates. I suppose I could use two pinballsand two brush-holders, but I don't need three needlebooks and half adozen toothbrush cases. Oh, dear, and all have been so kind that I wishthey had compared notes first, so that I needn't have so many things Ican't use."

  "I WISH I COULD TAKE THEM ALL," SHE SAID. (_Page 6._)]

  "It's better to have too many than too few," said Tessie sagely."Tessie," however, only occasionally, since the ten year old maidenscorned the diminutive of her earlier years, and insisted that now shewas old enough to be known as "Theresa."

  "It's better for you, Theresa," responded Irma, "for some of thesethings may find their way to your room. Lucy might let me give you thisneedlebook, or at least lend it, for perhaps it wouldn't do to give apresent away."

  "Well, I'll borrow it now, to help me remember you when you are gone,"and Tessie, delighted with her treasure, ran off to her room with it.

  During her last days at home Irma realized that Nap was not happy. Hefollowed her from room to room, and, so far as he could, kept her alwaysin sight. When she sat down, he lay at her feet with his nose touchingher dress. When she moved she almost stumbled over him; and once, whenshe went to close the steamer trunk, there he was inside! He might havesuffered Ginevra's fate, had not Irma happened to look within.

  "He truly knows just what you are going to do, and he meant to hideuntil the trunk was opened on the ship, so you'd have to take him withyou," cried Tessie.

  "Yes," added Chris, "perhaps he thinks that's his only chance of findingKatie Grimston again. She's still in Europe, isn't she?"

  "Well, Katie Grimston shall never have him."

  "But she did not give him to you; she wrote she would claim him on herreturn."

  "Yes, but she isn't here to claim him, and possession is nine points ofthe law." Then Irma picked the little creature up and ran away with him.

  The boys were very philosophical about their sister's departure.

  "If I should stay home they'd be grievously disappointed," Irma confidedto Gertrude. "They are calculating so on the stamps and post cards I amto collect for them, that I wouldn't dare change my mind."

  Mahala's interest, however, made up for the indifference of the boys totheir sister's departure.

  "We shall miss you dreadfully," and Mahala sighed heavily, "though it'sa great thing for a person to have the advantage of foreign travel; notthat I'd cross the ocean myself, for what with the danger of meetingicebergs," she continued cheerfully, "and bursting boilers and all theother perils of the sea--dear me, I'd feel as if I was taking my life inmy hands to embark on an ocean liner. But I'm glad you're going, Irma.One of the family ought to have the experience----"

  "Of icebergs and bursting boilers," cried Irma. "O Mahala, I amsurprised at you."

  "Going to Europe has seemed to me like a dream," continued Irma, turningto her mother, "but Mahala would change it to a nightmare," and the helpfrom Aroostook, Maine, withdrew in confusion to the kitchen.

  If Irma had thought going to Europe a dream, the dream seemed prettynearly true one Saturday morning, when from the deck of the greatsteamship she watched the receding dock, until in the crowd she couldbarely discern the figure of her father as he stood there waving hishandkerchief. At this moment there were real tears in her eyes, thoughshe had fully made up her mind not to cry. For the moment a great manythoughts crowded upon her,--memories of her mother looking from thewindow as the coach drove off to the station, of the boys and Tessiestanding at the gate, and Mahala on the steps with Nap in her arms, heldtightly, lest his continued wriggling should at last result in hisrunning after the carriage.

  "It's really very selfish in me to go so far when none of the otherscan go," Irma mused, and as the ship moved seaward, she was so lost insad thoughts that she hardly heeded Aunt Caroline's "Come, dear. Here isMarion, whom you haven't met yet."

  Turning about, Irma experienced one of the greatest surprises of herlife. Instead of the girl in long skirts whom she expected to see, therestood by her aunt's side a tall boy, apparently a little older than JohnWall or George Belman. Who could he be? And where was Marian? The boyhad pleasant, brown eyes, but a fretful line about his lips interferedwith the attractiveness of his face.

  There was no time for questions. Before Irma could speak, Aunt Carolinecontinued, "I do hope you two young people will like each other. Marion,this is Irma, about whom I have told you so much."

  The boy and the girl looked at each other for a moment in silence. Irmawas the first to speak.

  "Why--why I thought from your letter that Marion was a girl," she saidawkwardly.

  This speech did not better matters. Marion was still silent as heextended his hand to meet the one that Irma offered him. Then,acknowledging the introduction with a touch of his hat, he turned on hisheel and walked off.

  "Poor boy!" exclaimed Aunt Caroline, as he passed out of sight. "We mustbe patient. We must do what we can for him. Had things been different,he could hardly have come with us. But why did you think Marion a girl?"

  "I never heard of a boy named Marian."

  "Oh--it's after General Marion. Perhaps my wretched writing made the 'o'look an 'a'. I didn't refer to our nephew?"

  "No, you only said you hoped I'd like Marian, who was the same relationto Uncle Jim that I am to you," and Irma smiled, remembering that AuntCaroline was only an aunt by courtesy,--in other words, an intimatefriend of her mother's.

  "Well, we are very fond of Marion--even if he isn't a real nephew--onlywe must all make allowances for him," then Aunt Caroline flitted off,while Irma wondered why allowances must be made for a tall, good-lookingboy, who seemed well able to take care of himself.

  Meanwhile, Marion, leaning against a rail at some distance from Irma,was on the verge of a fit of the blues.

  "Thought I was a girl. Oh, yes, I suppose they have told hereverything. Aunt Caroline ought to have had more sense. Anyway, I hategirls, and I'll try not to see much of this one."

  Then Marion, to whom New York Harbor was no novelty, went within, whileUncle Jim joined Irma, and pointed out many interesting things. Thegreat city they were leaving looked picturesque to Irma, as she gave itsspires and high buildings a backward glance. The mammoth Liberty,standing on its little island, held her attention for a moment. Past theclosely built shore of Long Island and the forts on the Westchesterside, they were getting into deeper water, and Irma was straining hereyes in the direction of Sandy Hook, toward which Uncle Jim waspointing, when Aunt Caroline hurried up to her: "If you come in now, youcan write a short letter to your mother."

  "To my mother?"

  "Yes, to send back by the pilot. But you must be quick."

  Following her aunt, Irma was soon in the small saloon, where twenty orthirty persons were writing at small tables or on improvisedlap-tablets. In one corner a ship's officer was tying up bundles ofletters and putting them in the large mail bag that lay beside him.

  Irma quickly finished her brief home letter. It was only a word to letthem know she was thinking of them.

  As she approached the mail steward, "No, sir, we 'aven't a stamp left,"she heard him say, "heverybody's been writing. The stamps are hallgone--hat least the Hamerican."

  "Oh, don't we need English stamps?" Irma turned to her aunt.

  "No, dear. I am sorry he has no American stamps. I can enclose yourletter with my own to Cousin Fannie, and she'll remail it."

  "Oh, but I have stamps. I brought ha
lf a dozen with me." An oldgentleman who had vainly asked the steward for a stamp stood near Irma.She had heard him express annoyance that he must entrust his letter tothe pilot unstamped. "One can seldom trust a friend to put a stamp on aletter--still less a complete stranger--and this is very important."

  "Excuse me," interposed Irma, stepping up to him. She wonderedafterwards how she had dared. "Will you not take one of my stamps?" shesaid.

  A broad smile brightened the old gentleman's face. "You certainly arelong on stamps, and I am obliged to you for letting me share yourprosperity." Then, stamping his letter, he dropped it into the mail bag.

  "I'll take two," said a lady abruptly, approaching Irma, and without somuch as "by your leave," she detached two from Irma's strip of four, anddropping a nickel into her hand, walked off with a murmured "Thank you."A second and younger lady then approached.

  "Could you let me have two stamps?" she asked politely. "I overheard yousay that you had some."

  "Certainly," said Irma, and after thanking her, this applicant, with apleasant "Fair exchange is no robbery," slipped into Irma's hand twoItalian stamps. This seemed a much more gracious payment than thenickel. Later she recalled that the old gentleman had paid hernothing--and this, she decided, was the most courteous way of all.

  The steward had fastened the bag when Marion rushed up to him. "Oh, say,steward, give me a stamp."

  "'Aven't hany, sir."

  "Well, you ought to have some."

  "Mine are all gone, too," said Irma. "I had half a dozen a few minutesago."

  "You might have saved some for me," snapped Marion; "why should a girlwrite so many letters?"

  "I wrote only one," began Irma. "You can give your letter to the pilot."

  But Marion's only answer was to tear his letter into fragments. Then hefollowed the steward with the bag, and Irma was almost alone in thedeserted saloon.

  The letter she had just written was the last word she could send homefor a week. It would be twice as long before she could hear from any ofthe family. She began to wish that she had gone back on the pilot boat.Why, indeed, had she ever left home? She should have waited until theycould all visit Europe together. Now all kinds of things might happen toChris or Rudolph or Tessie--or even to her father and mother--and itmight all be over before she could hear a word. She began to be reallyunhappy, and again her eyes filled in a desperate feeling ofhomesickness.

  After this first attack, Irma was, for a time, able to put the familyout of her mind. At the first luncheon on shipboard, which she hardlytasted, her place at table was between Aunt Caroline and Marion. But atdinner when Marion appeared he dropped into the seat next to Uncle Jim,leaving his former place vacant.

  "It's only one of Marion's notions," whispered Aunt Caroline. "I fear heis shy, and doesn't know what to say to you."

  Irma was not comfortable in learning that Marion regarded her as aperson to be avoided. "If only Marion had been a friendly girl how muchpleasanter our party would be," she thought.

  At first Irma felt she could hardly manage to live in her smallstateroom. But when she had fastened to the wall the linen hold-all hermother had made, filled with various little things, and had stowed othersmall possessions in the drawer under the mirror, she saw thepossibility of adapting herself to her cramped quarters. She soon had aregular program. She rose with the first morning bugle, and after herearly bath, while Aunt Caroline dozed, dressed quickly.

  Then she had a brisk walk on deck before breakfast, which Uncle Jim'sparty had at the second table.

  Sunday morning--her second day at sea--Irma found a letter by her plateat breakfast.

  "It's from Lucy," she cried, turning it over and over.

  "A steamer letter," explained Uncle Jim. "Are you such a landlubber asnot to know that in these days letters follow you regularly on yourvoyage?"

  A moment later she discerned in a corner, "Care the Purser," and thenshe broke the seal.

  "What news?" asked Uncle Jim, as she finished.

  "All you'd expect from a letter written before I left home. I wonder howfar we are now," she concluded with a sigh.

  "Too far for you to swim back," answered Aunt Caroline, reading herthoughts.

  Among the letters that Irma received daily after this, Mahala's wasespecially entertaining.

  "To dream of a horse," she began, "is a sign of a letter, so I'mwriting because I dreamt of a horse last night, though that isn't theway it's generally meant to work. Tessie's beginning to live up to manyof the signs I've taught her, and when I told her I hoped your voyagewouldn't be unlucky because you were leaving Cranston Friday--just afteryou started she ran out of the room, and when I went on the steps to seeif she'd gone over to the Flynns', well, just at that very minutesomething struck me on the head, and such a mess, all down my face andover my apron. When I got hold of Tessie she explained that she'd heardme say that if any one wished on an egg dropped from a second storywindow, the wish would come true--if the egg didn't break--but this eggcertainly broke, and I hope it won't cause you ill luck. This wouldn'trequire mentioning, only I thought it might make you laugh if you happento feel peaked the day you read this letter. We didn't punish Tessie,because she's feeling kind of bad about you, and she got scared enoughwhen the egg broke on my head."