nd then stepped aside under the eaves. It seemed as if
he ought to be wet when such a lovely being was obliged to endure the
discomfort of standing there. As she chattered, he drew near again,
and wondered whether angels did not look like that. She was certainly
more beautiful than those in churches. He had forgotten that he was
cold, and was feeling very happy, when the intentness of his gaze
attracted the child's attention. She was whispering to her nurse, when
a harsh voice cried out,--

"Boy, go away from there! I can't watch those apples all the time."

Nino had thoughtlessly laid his hand on the barrel, and when the
grocer spoke, moved hastily away.

"Here, little boy," cried the silvery tones of the child; "don't go; I
want to give you an apple." Then she said to the grocer, "A big one,
please."

"Yes, miss; I did not notice you were there; but those boys are so
bad!"

Nino's face flushed, and his eyes glittered; but when the child
handed him the apple, he smiled, touched his hat, and said,--

"Thankee, little lady."

As he walked away, he did not notice the falling drops, but laid his
cheek against the apple, and smoothed its plump rosiness before he
tasted its rich juiciness.

Nino had no associates among the rough boys in the streets; he had a
pride that kept him above their coarse ways. As he played and sang the
songs he learned in Italy, dim memories of a better life came to him,
and his music seemed a holy spirit. He would have died but for that,
his life was so cold, hard, and bare.

He had been brought over by a sea captain, who dealt in boys; and as
he was very ill on the voyage, the captain let an old woman take him
for a small sum. She thought his thin, sad face would move the
passers, and in pity they would give him money. For this reason she
sent him out day after day, in storm or shine, ill clad and weary,
giving him but little food. But nature helped him. In spite of this
treatment, he became stronger, and after a time ran away from her.
Then he joined himself to a party of boy musicians, and by their help
got his guitar. But they were unkind to him; for he was yet weak and
timid, and the leader, a large boy, sometimes beat him if he refused
to play. One night Nino ran away from them, his precious guitar under
his arm; and since then he had played and sung through the streets,
sometimes begging, sometimes in despair, with thoughts of stealing.

His chief delight and comfort was to lie