"I know all about Valletta," she began. "I----"
"The deuce ye do," murmured Pat, "ye must know some nice things anyhow."
"And," continued she "will be your guide."
The other three looked at one another in dismay, and, with a strong effort, Pat gasped out a word of thanks.
"I say," whispered Ronald to Miss Lester, "she'll be as bad as Murray's guide book."
"Yes but not so accurate!"
"Never mind," said Pat, in a low tone, answering the last remark; "she'll make up for her mistakes by her obstinacy in stickin' to 'em; and perhaps," consolingly, "if we've luck we'll lose her."
They arrived on the rocky shore of Mount Sceberras, whereon Valletta stands, and admired the massive walls and the broad gateway, at which several red-coated sentries were keeping guard. Numerous guides offered their services but Mrs. Pellypop, in the purest of English--of which they did not understand one word, though her gestures were eloquent enough--sent them all away, and marched into Valletta, at the head of her party of three, like a victorious general into a conquered city. Then they began to climb the steep street leading to the Strada Reale, and under a burning sun the exercise was not pleasant. Oh! those interminable steps, how many oaths have they not been answerable for since Lord Byron abused them so heartily! Both Pat and Ronald cursed under their breaths, and if Miss Lester had not been very strictly brought up she also might have been tempted to use a word beginning with "D." Mrs. Pellypop, however, clad in her black silk--which must have been awfully hot, but extorted no remark from that excellent woman--toiled steadily upward, and not a word did this indomitable female say, though, like the celebrated parrot, she no doubt thought a lot.
"Capital exercise isn't it," observed Miss Lester as they paused for breath.
"I dare say, if we were training for a circus," retorted Pat dryly, taking off his straw hat. "I'm like Arethusa, and will melt into a stream of water if this goes on. I believe old Pellypop will swear shortly."