ncle, with contracted
brow. "Didn't I tell you to bring him home?"

"Si, signore, but I could not."

"Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the padrone, with a sneer.
"Is a boy of twelve more than a match for you, who are six years older?"

"I could kill him with my little finger," said Pietro, stung by this
taunt, and for the moment he looked as if he would like to do it.

"Then you didn't want to bring him? Come, you are not too old for the
stick yet."

Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger and shame when these
words were addressed to him. He would not have cared so much had they
been alone, but some of the younger boys were present, and it shamed him
to be threatened in their presence.

"I will tell you how it happened," he said, suppressing his anger as
well as he could, "and you will see that I was not in fault."

"Speak on, then," said his uncle; but his tone was cold and incredulous.

Pietro told the story, as we know it. It will not be necessary to repeat
it. When he had finished, his uncle said, with a sneer, "So you were
afraid of a woman. I am ashamed of you."

"What could I do?" pleaded Pietro.

"What could you do?" repeated the padrone, furiously; "you could
push her aside, run into the house, and secure the boy. You are a
coward--afraid of a woman!"

"It was her house," said Pietro. "She would call the police."

"So could you. You could say it was your brother you sought. There was
no difficulty. Do you think Filippo is there yet?"

"I do not know."

"To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the padrone. "I see I cannot
trust you alone. You shall show me the house, and I will take the boy."

Pietro was glad to hear this. It shifted the responsibility from his
shoulders, and he was privately convinced that Mrs. McGuire would prove
a more formidable antagonist than the padrone imagined. Whichever way
it turned out, he would experience a feeling of satisfaction. If the
padrone got worsted, it would show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed
of his defeat. If Mrs. McGuire had to surrender at discretion, he would
rejoice in her discomfiture. So, in spite of his reprimand, he went to
bed with better spirits than he came home.

The next morning Pietro and the padrone proceeded to Newark, as
proposed. Arrived there, the former led his uncle at once to the house
of the redoubtable Mrs. McGuire. It will be necessary for us to precede
them.

Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for so