"I don't know，my dear.It wasn't a question of choice，but of necessity.No other hotel seemed willing to receive us."They were now winding upward over a wonderful road cut in the solid rock.It was broad and smooth and protected by a parapet of dressed limestone.Now and then they passed pleasant villas set in orchards of golden oranges or groves of olives and almonds；but there was no sign of life on any side.
The road was zigzagb，making a long ascent across the face of the cape，then turning abruptly to wind back again，but always creeping upward until an open space showed the station far below and a rambling stone building at the edge of the cliff far above.
"Behold！"cried Frascatti，pointing up，"the Grand Hotel Castello—a—Mare；is it not the excellenza location ？""Has it a roof？"asked Uncle John，critically.
"Of a certainty，signore！But it does not show from below，"was the grave reply.
At times Frascatti stopped his horses to allow them to rest，and then he would turn in his seat to address hispassengers in the open victoria and descant upon the beauties of the panorama each turn unfolded.
"This road is new，"said he，"because we are very progressiveand the old road was most dif?culty.Then it was three hours from the bottom to the top.Now it is but a short hour，for our energy climbs the three miles in that brief time.Shall I stop here for the sunset，or will your excellenzi hasten on？""If your energy approves，we will hasten，"returnedUncle John."We love a sunset，because it's bound to set anyway，and we may as well make the best of it；but we have likewise an objection to being out after dark.Any brigandsa around here？""Brigands！Ah；the signor is merry.Never，since the daysof Naxos，have brigands infestedb our fair country.""When were the days of Naxos？""Some centuries before Christ，signor，"bowing his head and making the sign of the cross.
"Very good.The brigands of those days must，of course，be dead by this time.Now，sir，when you have leisure，let us hasten."The horses started and crept slowly upward again.None of the party was in a hurry.Such beautiful glimpses of scenery were constantly visible from the bends of the road that the girls were enrapturedc，and could have ridden for hours in thisglorious fairyland.
But suddenly the horses broke into a trota and dragged the carriage rapidly forward over the last incline.A moment later they dashed into the court of the hotel and the driver with a loud cry of "Oo—ah！"and a crack of his whip drew up before the entrance.
The portiere and the padroneb，or landlord—the latterbeing also the p r o p r i e t a i r ec—came out to greet them，extending to their guests a courteous welcome.The house was very full.All of the cheaper rooms were taken；but of course the Signor American would wish only the best and be glad to pay.
Uncle John requested them to rob him as modestly as possible without con?icting with their sense of duty，and they assured him they would do so.
The rooms were adorable.They faced the sea and had little balconies that gave one a view of the blue Mediterranean far beneath，with lovely Isola Bella and the Capo San Andrea nestling on its bosom.To the right towered the majestic peak of Etna，its crest just now golden red in the dying sunset.
The girls drew in deep breaths and stood silent in a very ecstacy of delight.At their feet was a terracedd garden，running downward two hundred feet to where the crag fellsheer to the sea.It was glorious with blooming ?owers of every sort that grows，and the people on the balconies imagined at the moment they had been transferred to an earthly paradise too fair and sweet for ordinary mortalsa.And then the glow of the sun faded softly and twilight took its place.Far downthe winding road could be seen the train of carriages returning from the station，the vetturini singing their native songs as the horses slowly ascended the slope.An unseen organ somewhere in the distance ground outb a Neapolitan folk song，and fresh and youthful voices sang a clear，high toned accompaniment.
Even practical Uncle John stood absorbed and admiring until the soft voice of the facchino called to ask if he wanted hot water in which to bathe before dinner.
"It's no use，"said Patsy，smiling at him from the next balconywith tears in her eyes；"There's not another Taormina on earth.Here we are，and here we stay until we have to go home again.""But，my dear，think of Paris，of Venice，of—""I'll think of nothing but this，Uncle John.Unless you settle down with us here I'll turn milkmaid and live all my days in Sicily！"Beth laughed，and drew her into their room.
"Don't be silly，Patsy dear，"she said，calmly，although almost as greatly affected as her cousin."There are no cows here，so you can't be a milkmaid.""Can't I milk the goats，then？""Why，the men seem to do that，dear.But cheer up.We've only seen the romance of Taormina yet；doubtless it will be commonplace enough to—morrow."
