Then he showed them the barrels of mammoth green olives which he had sold on the trees to an American dealer the month before, and which were soon to be shipped to Genoa.
Mrs. Sprague looked at the setting sun, and advised that they hurry on to the next town, where they were to spend the night; and Rafael rejoiced once more in the speed of the automobile.
But Edith was tired, and was glad to reach a comfortable bed in Siena, and lay her head upon the pillow filled with live-geese feathers; after which she knew nothing more of Italy, until the next morning's sun wakened her, and she began another day's journey over the roads of Tuscany.
CHAPTER XI
A MARATHON RUN TO ROME
"All roads lead to Rome!" called Edith, from her seat in the automobile, to Rafael in the door of the inn. The boy gave her a merry salute in answer, and climbed to his place by her side.
It was a lovely morning, and every peasant they passed waved a hand in friendly greeting to the two happy young people, while Mrs. Sprague leaned back and listened to their merry chatter, which never stopped through the long hours.
Rafael was constantly calling Edith's attention to this thing or that,—to the gray oxen, to the flocks of sheep, to the donkey carts which they passed. At last Edith said, "Rafael, why do you look always at the road? Why don't you look instead of those distant mountains, with the castles and monasteries crowning their peaks?"