stopped him?"

"Yes."

"I know him. It is Tim Rafferty. He is a mean boy; I will pay him up for
it."

"I do not care for it now," said Phil.

"But what will your padrone say when you come home without it?"

"He would beat me, but I will not go home."

"What will you do?"

"I will run away."

"Good for you, Phil! I like your spunk," said Paul, heartily. "I
wouldn't go back to the old villain if I were you. Where are you going?"

"Away from New York. If I stay here the padrone would catch me."

"How much did you earn with your fiddle when you had it?"

"Two dollars, if it was a good day."

"That is excellent. I'll tell you what, Phil, if you could stay in the
city, I would invite you to come and live with us. You could pay your
share of the expense, say three or four dollars a week, and keep the
rest of your money to buy clothes, and to save."

"I should like it," said Phil; "but if I stay in the city the padrone
would get hold of me."

"Has he any legal right to your services?" asked Paul.

Phil looked puzzled. He did not understand the question.

"I mean did your father sign any paper giving you to him?"

"Yes," said Phil, comprehending now.

"Then I suppose he could take you back. You think you must go away from
the city, then, Phil?"

"Yes."

"Where do you think of going?"

"I do not know."

"You might go to Jersey--to Newark, which is quite a large city, only
ten miles from here."

"I should like to go there."

"I don't think the padrone would send there to find you. But how are you
going to make your living--you have lost your fiddle?"

"I can sing."

"But you would make more money with your fiddle."

"Si, signore."

"Don't talk to me in Italian, Phil; I no understand it."

Phil laughed.

"You can speak English much better than most Italian boys."

"Some cannot speak at all. Some speak french, because we all stayed in
Paris sometime before we came to America."

"Parlez-vous Francais?"

"Oui, monsieur, un peu."

"Well, I can't. Those three words are all the French I know. But, I say,
Phil, you ought to have a fiddle."

"I should like to have one. I should make more money."

"How much would one cost?"

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment's
thought. "I know a pawnbroker's shop on Chatham Street where there is
a fiddle for sale. I don't think it will cost very much; not more than
five dollars. You must buy it."

"I have