Chico: the Story of a Homing Pigeon | Page 5

important messages my bird will carry!"
In reply she only smiled--it was enough for her that the pigeons loved to have her stroke them as they nestled in her lap.

CHAPTER III
MARIA'S BIRTHDAY
Andrea was so possessed with his idea that he ran every step of the way home that afternoon, climbed up the narrow dark stairs, two steps at a time, and burst upon his mother in such excitement that she feared some misfortune had befallen the children.
"What is it?" she cried, looking up from the stiff porridge she was mixing, "are you hurt?--and Maria--where is she?"
"Nothing has happened," was the breathless answer; "that is, nothing dreadful, and Maria is behind with Paolo. It is only--" his dark cheeks flushed. "It is only that he has promised me a pigeon of my own!"
"Is that all?" Greatly relieved, his mother turned again to the polenta. [Footnote: Cake, or thick porridge made of maize.] What a child he was, to be sure, to be so pleased at the idea of the possession of a pigeon!
"But, madre," he protested, "I am going to train it to carry messages. There's no knowing what my pigeon will do!"
"Si! Si!" She replied absently as she turned to see if the charcoal was right for the baking.
It was a mean little house, at least so it would seem to most American children--just three rooms overlooking one of the side canals, and over a fish shop. It was built of brick (no one knew, how long ago), and was wedged in between others, of exactly the same type.
But it was home, and whatever else it lacked, it had a front window, with shutters, and a balcony with an iron railing, and when tucked up in their beds at night, in the tiny dark alcove, the children could hear the soft swish of the water against the embankment.
In spite of the window, even the best room was never very light, and only an occasional streak of sunshine found its way in, but on those rare occasions it fell upon the choicest treasure of the home, a rude colored print of the Virgin, in a modest shrine, hung with gilded fringe. On the shelf above, Luisa took care to see that a lamp was ever burning, and on the table before it stood always a tiny vase of fresh flowers. What matter, that the carpet was old, and the furniture worn, the Virgin's shrine was there!
Unconsciously, the children trod gently in this room, and their laughter was subdued, but in the kitchen--ah, there, their spirits were unrestrained.
Maria was not long behind her brother, but the scampi,[Footnote: Fish.] were already frying in the pan, before Giovanni, in his working shirt, appeared in the doorway, hungry and ready for his dinner.
"Padre! Padre!" cried Andrea; "only guess--the pet I am to have!" Then, with scarcely an instant's pause, he went on, in a shrill voice, "A pigeon, padre, isn't that--GREAT?"
"Well, well!" Giovanni answered, taking his seat at the head of the table, "and so you are to have a pigeon for a pet. I might have guessed anything else--a parrot, a little singing bird, or perhaps, a couple of grilli [Footnote: Crickets.] in a tiny cage, but a pigeon! Why, you play with them all day long on St. Mark's Square."
"But that is not like having one of one's own," the boy protested.
He made a gesture of disgust. "A parrot, a singing bird, a couple of grilli! What was his father thinking of?" and in another moment he was explaining how he would train his bird to be a carrier pigeon, and how bright its eyes would be, and how strong its wings, until his father laughed and declared himself convinced that it would be the most wonderful thing in all the world to own a pigeon.
The fish had quite disappeared from the platter when Giovanni again spoke:
"To-morrow is the Sabbath, and it is the little Maria's birthday--what say you?"--he addressed himself particularly to Luisa--"shall we go to the Lido?"
To the Lido! The children's eyes sparkled. There was nothing they loved more to do than to play on the sand at the Lido.
"Si!" Luisa answered with ready acquiescence; "and on the way let us spend a little time at the Accademia--it has been long since I have seen the pictures of the great Titian and even Maria is quite old enough."
So it was settled, and the children talked of nothing else the rest of the evening, dropping off to sleep without once giving a thought to the lapping of the water.
When they woke, it was late; their mother had been up for a long time, getting everything ready for the day's excursion. Already the lunch-basket was packed, and as soon as the children were dressed and the breakfast eaten, it was time to start.
At first,