"O, come," cried Mae, "suppose we stop looking like a set of
illustrations for a phrenological journal, expressive of the various
emotions. I was only speculating on the different sights we should see
in the same places. Confess, now, Albert. Won't your eyes be forever
hunting out old musty, dusty volumes? Will not books be your first
pleasures in the sight-seeing line?"

"O, no, pictures," cried Edith.

"That is as you say," Mae demurely agreed. "Pictures and books for you
two at any rate."

"And churches."

"For your mother, yes, and beer-gardens for Eric, and amphitheatres and
battle fields for Mr. Mann."

"And for yourself?"

"The blue, blue bay of Naples, a grove of oranges, moonlight and a boat
if it please you."

"By the way," suggested Albert, "about our plans; we really should begin
to agitate the matter at once."

"Yes, to do our fighting on shipboard. Let us agree to hoist the white
flag the day we sight land, else we shall settle down into a regular War
of the Roses and never decide," laughed Norman.