"Meet bathing! No, indeed! We meet at home, and out of doors," said Lucy; "my friend Annie and I walk together."
"Walk together! what, in the street? Shocking! You cannot be a lady."
"Indeed I am," said Lucy, colouring up. "My Papa is a gentleman. And see how many books we have, and how much we have to learn! French, and music, and sums, and grammar, and history, and geography."
"I will not be a Frank! No, no! I will not learn," said the alarmed Amina on hearing this catalogue poured forth.
"Geography is very nice," said Lucy; "here are our maps. I will show you where you live. This is Constantinople."
"I live at Stamboul," said Amina, scornfully.
"There is Stamboul in little letters below—look."
"That Stamboul! The Frank girl is false; Stamboul is a large, large, beautiful place; not a little black speck. I can see it from my lattice. White houses and mosques in the sun, and the blue Golden Horn, with the little caiques gliding."
Before Lucy could explain, the door opened, and one of her brothers put in his head. At once Amina began to scream and roll herself in the window curtain. "A man in the harem! Oh! oh! oh! Were there no slippers at the door?" And her screaming brought Lucy awake at Uncle Joe's again.