erata?" demanded the man,
harshly.

Lucia, a pretty, brown-faced girl, did not lose her joyful look even at
this rebuke. She stooped and picked up the tambourine, and began to play
mechanically, but continued to speak to Filippo.

"How long are you in the city?" asked Phil, speaking, of course, in his
native language.

"Only two weeks," answered Lucia. "I am so glad to see you, Filippo."

"When did you come from Italy?"

"I cannot tell. I think it is somewhere about two months."

"And did you see my mother before you came away?" asked Phil, eagerly.

"Yes, Filippo, I saw her. She told me if I saw you to say that she
longed for her dear boy to return; that she thought of him day and
night."

"Did she say that, Lucia?"

"Yes, Filippo."

"And is my mother well?" asked Phil, anxiously, for he had a strong love
for his mother.

"She is well, Filippo--she is not sick, but she is thin, and she looks
sad."

"I will go and see her some day," said Phil. "I wish I could see her
now."

"When will you go?"

"I don't know; when I am older."

"But where is your fiddle, Filippo?" asked Lucia. "Do you not play?"

Filippo glanced at the organ-grinder, whom he did not dare to take into
his confidence. So he answered, evasively:

"Another boy took it. I shall get another this afternoon."

"Are you with the padrone?"

"Yes."

"Come, Lucia," said the man, roughly, ceasing to play, "we must go on."

Lucia followed her companion obediently, reluctant to leave Phil,
with whom she desired to converse longer; but the latter saw that her
guardian did not wish the conversation to continue, and so did not
follow.

This unexpected meeting with Lucia gave him much to think of. It carried
back his thoughts to his humble, but still dear, Italian home, and the
mother from whom he had never met with anything but kindness, and a
longing to see both made him for the moment almost sad. But he was
naturally of a joyous temperament, and hope soon returned.

"I will save money enough to go home," he said to himself. "It will not
take very much--not more than fifty dollars. I can get it soon if I do
not have to pay money to the padrone."

As may be inferred, Phil did not expect to return home in style. A
first-class ticket on a Cunarder was far above his expectations. He
would be content to go by steerage all the way, and that could probably
be done for the sum he named. So his sadness was but brief, and be soon
became hopeful a