now that they were
entitled to rest for the remainder of the evening, since they had gained
quite as much as they would have been likely to earn in wandering about
the streets. The group that had gathered about them dispersed, and they
ceased to be objects of attention. Fatigue and the warmth of the room
gradually affected Giacomo until he leaned back and fell asleep.

"I won't take him till it's time to go back," thought Phil.

So Giacomo slept on, despite the noises in the street outside and the
confusion incident to every large hotel. As he sat asleep, he attracted
the attention of a stout gentleman who was passing, leading by the hand
a boy of ten.

"Is that your brother?" he asked in a low tone of Phil.

"No, signore; it is my comrade."

"So you go about together?"

"Yes, sir," answered Phil, bethinking himself to use English instead of
Italian.

"He seems tired."

"Yes; he is not so strong as I am."

"Do you play about the streets all day?"

"Yes, sir."

"How would you like that, Henry?" asked his father to the boy at his
side.

"I should like to play about the streets all day," said Henry,
roguishly, misinterpreting the word "play."

"I think you would get tired of it. What is your name, my boy?"

"Filippo."

"And what is the name of your friend?"

"Giacomo."

"Did you never go to school?"

Phil shook his head.

"Would you like to go?"

"Yes, sir."

"You would like it better than wandering about the streets all day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you not ask your father to send you to school?"

"My father is in Italy."

"And his father, also?"

"Si, signore," answered Phil, relapsing into Italian.

"What do you think of that, Henry?" asked the gentleman. "How should
you like to leave me, and go to some Italian city to roam about all day,
playing on the violin?"

"I think I would rather go to school."

"I think you would."

"Are you often out so late, Filippo? I think that is the name you gave
me."

Phil shrugged his shoulders

"Always," he answered.

"At what time do you go home?"

"At eleven."

"It is too late for a boy of your age to sit up. Why do you not go home
sooner?"

"The padrone would beat me."

"Who is the padrone?"

"The man who brought me from Italy to America."

"Poor boys!" said the gentleman, compassionately. "Yours is a hard life.
I hope some time you will be in a better position."

Phil fixed his dark eyes upon the stranger, grateful for his wor