“The Signora will not forget? Vulgar shoes. Some were sent with high heels, pointed toes--no use for us. Vulgar shoes for men and women. It is understood?” * * * * * Grass was not allowed to grow under the feet at Belknapoli (so Mrs. Griscom christened the Camp); that very afternoon they sent for the bell. It came in a cart, drawn by a pair of swift red oxen, surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd of Messinesi. With a deal of laughter and shouting, the church bell was hung between two trees outside the “pay-window.” From that day on, it called the men to labor and to rest, morning, noon and night.[2] On Saturday afternoon Gasperone knocked at my door. “Behold,” he said, “the package from Rome the Signora expected. It seems in good condition.” He laid down a big bundle that had come by post. We had telegraphed Agnese from Palermo, to send some clothing to the Camp to distribute for Easter. Agnese had been faithful, the post-office prompt, the clothes had come in time. It cost twenty cents to send the telegram, a very small sum to transport the package. In Italy the people own their telegraph and express; they pay the minimum price for both services. _When shall we do as much?_ The news that there were clothes to be had for the asking spread rapidly; a line formed outside the guest house. The dresses, alas, did not begin to “go round.” With the doctor’s help, we gave them to the most needy, thwarting Gasperone, who wanted them all for his family. At the end of the distribution Caterina arrived, out of breath, leading the raggedest barefoot child in all ragged Messina. Nothing remained for her but a bright blue dress and a buff silk handkerchief. “It is finished, away, away!” Gasperone drove the grateful, gossiping crowd before him. “The Comandante does not allow loafing about the Camp; be off!” On Easter morning the Camp slept late; it was to be a real holiday, for the men at least. The matins of the birds began before dawn. At sunrise the world was one great opal; as the sun grew stronger, the opalescent mists disappeared; by the time the goats came rambling to the kitchen door, the earth was an emerald between a sapphire sea and sky. Caterina was the first to give me the lovely Easter greeting: “_Oggi il Signor non è morto!_” (Today our Lord is not dead.) A little girl in a pretty blue dress, a buff handkerchief tied over her rippling bronze hair, shyly held out a lilac lily as she lisped:--“Blessed be thou!” [Illustration: PAY-WINDOW AND THE ARCHBISHOP’S BELL. _Page 453._] “Don’t you know her?” cried Caterina. “It’s Teresa; the dress suits her, yes?”