CHAPTER SEVEN“But why does Italy look so like a boot?” Tessa asked, studying the map in front of her intently.
“I don’t know,” Lydia answered, “but it does look like one and Sicily is the ball it is just going to kick.”
“I do wish all countries were made like that,” Tessa said, “and then it would be terribly easy to remember them. If England was a hand and France two legs dancing, I should never forget them and you would be awfully pleased with me, wouldn’t you?”
“I am very pleased anyway today,” Lydia said, “you are getting along well.”
“Am I really?” Tessa asked a little wistfully.
“Really,” Lydia answered.
Tessa suddenly put a warm arm round Lydia’s neck and kissed her.
“I do like you,” she said, “you are the nicest person I have ever known.”
“I am glad,” Lydia answered, “and I
