y manner that if they dared have anything more to do with my
dog, they would have me to reckon with. I was willing to fight them both
to protect Capi.

From that day every one in my family openly showed their dislike for me.
My grandfather continued to spit angrily when I approached him. The boys
and my eldest sister played every trick they possibly could upon me. My
father and mother ignored me, only demanding of me my money every
evening. Out of the whole family, for whom I had felt so much affection
when I had landed in England, there was only baby Kate who would let me
fondle her, and she turned from me coldly if I had not candy or an
orange in my pocket for her.

Although I would not listen to what Mattia had said at first, gradually,
little by little, I began to wonder if I did really belong to this
family. I had done nothing for them to be so unkind to me. Mattia,
seeing me so greatly worried, would say as though to himself: "I am just
wondering what kind of clothes Mother Barberin will tell us you wore...."

At last the letter came. The priest had written it for her. It read:

"My little Remi: I was surprised and sorry to learn the contents of
your letter. From what Barberin told me and also from the clothes
you had on when you were found, I thought that you belonged to a
very rich family. I can easily tell you what you wore, for I have
kept everything. You were not wound up in wrappings like a French
baby; you wore long robes and underskirts like little English
babies. You had on a white flannel robe and over that a very fine
linen robe, then a big white cashmere pelisse lined with white silk
and trimmed with beautiful white embroidery, and you had a lovely
lace bonnet, and then white woolen socks with little silk rosettes.
None of these things were marked, but the little flannel jacket you
had next to your skin and the flannel robe had both been marked,
but the marks had been carefully cut out. There, Remi, boy, that is
all I can tell you. Don't worry, dear child, that you can't give us
all the fine presents that you promised. Your cow that you bought
with your savings is worth all the presents in the world to me. I
am pleased to tell you that she's in good health and gives the same
fine quantity of milk, so I am very comfortably off now, and I
never look at her without thinking of you and your little friend