CHAPTER XX
TOWARD THE TOE
"Heel and toe, and away we go," sang Jack on the morning they were to start for Naples. "We've come down all through the boot leg, Jean, and now we're going toward the toe."
"It isn't really the toe when we stop," returned Jean. "Aunt Helen showed me on the map, and it isn't any further down than the ankle."
"Well, but it's toward the toe."
"Yes," admitted Jack. "There are more donkeys there than anywhere we have been," she went on, "and there are goats that walk up-stairs to be milked."
"We saw them milk goats in the streets of Paris. Don't you remember the man who used to come by early in the morning playing on the pipes, and how we used to get up and look out of the window to see him milk the goats?"
"Yes, but those goats didn't walk up-stairs. Carter told me about the ones in Naples and I am going to look out for them."
"Carter told me a lot of things, too," returned Jack, not to be outdone. "He told me more than he did you. He said there was a cave that was bright blue inside, and that we should go there, and he said there was a great big aquarium, the finest in the world, and—that we'd see the smoke coming out of Vesuvius, and we'd eat oranges off the trees just as we did in California."
"I don't care," said Jean. "I reckon he told me just as much, only I don't remember it all."