“Presently,” thought Rachel, “we’ll ask him to let us go up that splendid staircase and get inside the temple where Mausolus is buried. There must be all sorts of lovely things there.” But at the moment she felt it was enough just to sit still and gaze at the outside of the tomb, at the burning blue of the sky behind it, at the sparkling bay beyond, about which the flat-roofed white houses of the city clustered. “It will be awfully interesting to walk about in Halicarnassus,” she reflected. “I wonder whether we shall see Queen Artemisia? We _might_. Anything of course could happen. And it’s all just as real as—as though it _was_ real,” she added, at a loss how to put it to herself. It was just when she had made this half-dreamy reflection that she saw the tomb of Mausolus beginning to totter. It swayed for a moment right and left before her eyes—and then was gone. So also was the city. She had a flashing glimpse of mounds of earth, and of a plain scattered over with stones, before Grayson stood putting a can of hot water upon the wash-stand. “Time to get up, Miss Rachel,” she observed, cheerfully. * * * * * Never had Rachel so longed to see Diana as now. If Diana knew nothing about this adventure—then it was only a dream, and that would be too dreadful. She could scarcely wait till the afternoon, when her friend was to come round to go for a walk with her. One glance, however, at Diana’s face when at last she came, reassured her. Their eyes met, and Diana’s were sparkling and full of mystery. You may imagine what they talked about in Kensington Gardens that afternoon when they ran on together in front of Miss Moore. [Illustration] SIXTH WONDER [Illustration: THE LIGHTHOUSE OF ALEXANDRIA] The day after their walk in Kensington Gardens, Diana, full of distress, ran in to see Rachel early in the afternoon. “What do you think? I have to go to the seaside to-morrow!” she exclaimed, breathlessly. “Mother and Father are going, and they say I’m to go with them, and—” “But how lovely!” interrupted Rachel. “For _you_, I mean. It will be horrid for _me_,” she added, dejectedly. “Why don’t you want to go?” Diana stared at her. “Don’t you understand? I shall be away more than a week, and”—she lowered her voice mysteriously—“the _seventh_ day, you know, will come round, and I shan’t be here, and I shall miss the chance of an adventure. Oh, I do envy you, Rachel! I’d rather never go to the seaside again than miss all the exciting things that might happen. And you see I can’t explain why I don’t want to go—so it’s all perfectly horrible.”