A hanging lamp swung from the ceiling, and the bowl of it was made of skulls surrounded by vertebræ, while the chain-like suspension was made of many femurs, fastened end to end.
“I simply must have postcards of these,” said Flo, and they asked the grave monk if they might buy them.
Apparently he had never heard of postcards, for Peter could not make him understand. At last he offered them photographs, and they all bought some. Afterward they did find some postcards, but it was at an outside shop, and the monk, who never went outside his restricted limits, knew nothing of them.
“That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve seen yet!” said Patty, as they returned to their lumbering old carryall.
“I think it’s terrible,” said Milly; “don’t let’s talk about it!”
So out of deference to their somewhat difficult member, they dropped the subject, but Patty never forgot the Capuchin monks who approve of such a strange way of venerating their dead.
To St. Peter’s they went next. Mr. Homer hustled them all out of the stage before they entered the Piazza, saying they must fasten a picture of it in their memory.
“You can’t see the best view of the church if you’re close to it,” he said. “Stand here,” and he paused before they entered the great colonnaded circle.
And there he made them stand, for fully five minutes, without speaking, while they photographed the scene on their mind.