disposed to listen and reply. Some one sent us to a chalet built way up on the mountain; another assured us that she lived down by the lake. They were indeed English ladies who lived up in the chalet on the mountain and the villa down by the lake; but not our Mrs. Milligan.
One afternoon we were playing in the middle of the road. The house before us had a large iron gate; the house behind stood way back in a garden. In the front of it there was a stone wall. I was singing my loudest. I sung the first verse of my Neapolitan song and was about to commence the second when we heard a weak strange voice singing. Who could it be? What a strange voice!
"Arthur?" inquired Mattia.
"No, no, it is not Arthur. I have never heard that voice before."
But Capi commenced to whine and gave every sign of intense joy while jumping against the wall.
"Who is singing?" I cried, unable to contain myself.
"Remi!" called a weak voice.
My name instead of an answer! Mattia and I looked at one another, thunderstruck. As we stood looking stupidly into each other's faces, I saw a handkerchief being waved at the end of the wall. We ran to the spot. It was not until we got to the hedge which surrounded the other side of the garden that we saw the one who was waving.
Lise! At last we had found her and not far away were Mrs. Milligan and Arthur!
