"What is it? Oh, what's the matter?" cried Lilias, terribly scared.
She put out her hand and tried to turn on the electric light, but she moved the switch in vain, Carmel, who had groped for the matches, lighted a candle, and by the time the welcome little yellow flame showed itself, the shaking and rumbling had entirely ceased. Lilias looked anxiously round the room.
"What's the matter?" she asked again.
"Only an earthquake!" said Carmel calmly. "It's over now."
"An earthquake!" Lilias's voice was tragic.
"Just a slight shock. We often have them."
"O-o-h! Will the walls tumble down?"
"Certainly not—it only makes the china rattle."
By this time Cousin Clare, also unaccustomed to earthquakes and almost as alarmed as Lilias, came into the room. Carmel pacified them both, assuring them that such tremors were of quite common occurrence, and that people in Sicily thought little about them unless they were severe enough to do damage.
All this time Dulcie's pink cheek was buried in the pillow, and her breath came as quietly and evenly as that of a baby.