It was New Year's Day, and Dorothy was seated at the table in the schoolroom at Villa Lucia, writing to her uncle Cranstone.
She wrote a very nice round hand, between lines, thanks to the patient teaching which Irene bestowed on her. To be sure, the thin foreign paper was rather a trial, as the pen was so apt to stick when a thin up-stroke followed a firm down-stroke; but still the letter, when finished, was a very creditable performance to both mistress and pupil.
Lady Burnside had wisely decreed that Irene should have no lessons while she was at San Remo, for she was very forward for her age, having gone through the regular routine of school, and writing at ten years old almost a formed hand, while Dorothy had only printed words when Irene took her up as a pupil.
"It will be a nice occupation for Irene to help Dorothy with her lessons," Lady Burnside said; and Dorothy felt the importance of going to school when, every morning at ten o'clock, she was escorted by Ingleby to the Villa Lucia, and joined the party in the schoolroom.
Dorothy had a great deal to learn besides reading and writing and arithmetic, and as she had never had any one to give up to, she found that part of her daily lessons rather hard.
Baby Bob, in whom Irene delighted, tried Dorothy's patience sorely, and, indeed, he was a young person who required to be repressed.
Dorothy had just finished her letter to her uncle, and with aching fingers had written her name at the bottom of the second sheet, when Baby Bob appeared, followed by Ella.
"We are to have a holiday, because it is New Year's Day, and go on donkeys to La Colla."
"Yes," said Willy; "I have been to order Marietta's donkeys—the big brown one for me, the little white one for Dorothy, the little grey one for Ella, and the old spotted one for Irene. It's such fun going to La Colla, and we'll put Ingleby and Crawley on as we come down, and——"
But Willy was interrupted by a cry from Dorothy—