Phil the Fiddler | Page 7

did not like. He mentally decided that it would be safer not to provoke him.
"Come here, Johnny, and take your apple," said Edward.
Phil advanced, and received back his property with satisfaction.
"You'd better eat it now. I'll see that he doesn't disturb you."
Phil followed the advice of his new friend promptly. He had eaten nothing since seven o'clock, and then only a piece of dry bread and cheese, and the apple, a rare luxury, he did not fail to relish. His would-be robber scowled at him meanwhile, for he had promised himself the pleasure of dispatching the fruit. Edward stood by till the apple was eaten, and then turned away. The rowdy made a movement as if to follow Phil, but Edward quickly detected him, and came back.
"Don't you dare touch him," he said, significantly, "or you'll have to settle accounts with me. Do you see that policeman? I am going to ask him to have an eye on you. You'd better look out for yourself."
The other turned at the caution, and seeing the approach of one of the Metropolitan police quickly vanished. He had a wholesome fear of these guardians of the public peace, and did not care to court their attention.
Edward turned away, but in a moment felt a hand tugging at his coat. Looking around, he saw that it was Phil.
"Grazia, signore," said Phil, gratefully.
"I suppose that means 'Thank you'?"
Phil nodded.
"All right, Johnny! I am glad I was by to save you from that bully."

CHAPTER III
GIACOMO
After eating the apple Phil decided to buy his frugal dinner. He, therefore, went into a baker's shop, and bought two penny rolls and a piece of cheese. It was not a very luxurious repast, but with the apple it was better than usual. A few steps from the shop door he met another Italian boy, who was bound to the same padrone.
"How much money have you, Giacomo?" asked Phil, speaking, of course, in his native tongue.
"Forty cents. How much have you?"
"A dollar and twenty cents."
"You are very lucky, Filippo."
"A rich signora gave me fifty cents for playing to her sick boy. Then I sang for some schoolboys, and they gave me some money."
"I am afraid the padrone will beat me to-night."
"He has not beat me for a week."
"Have you had dinner, Filippo?"
"Yes, I had some bread and cheese, and an apple."
"Did you buy the apple?"
"No; one of the schoolboys gave it to me. It was very good," said Phil, in a tone of enjoyment. "I had not eaten one for a long time."
"Nor I. Do you remember, Filippo, the oranges we had in Italy?"
"I remember them well."
"I was happy then," said Giacomo, sighing. "There was no padrone to beat me, and I could run about and play. Now I have to sing and play all day. I am so tired sometimes,--so tired, Filippo."
"You are not so strong as I, Giacomo," said Phil, looking with some complacency at his own stout limbs.
"Don't you get tired, Filippo?"
"Yes, often; but I don't care so much for that. But I don't like the winter."
"I thought I should die with cold sometimes last winter," said Giacomo, shuddering. "Do you ever expect to go back to Italy, Filippo?"
"Sometime."
"I wish I could go now. I should like to see my dear mother and my sisters."
"And your father?"
"I don't want to see him," said Giacomo, bitterly. "He sold me to the padrone. My mother wept bitterly when I went away, but my father only thought of the money."
Filippo and Giacomo were from the same town in Calabria. They were the sons of Italian peasants who had been unable to resist the offers of the padrone, and for less than a hundred dollars each had sold his son into the cruelest slavery. The boys were torn from their native hills, from their families, and in a foreign land were doomed to walk the streets from fourteen to sixteen hours in every twenty-four, gathering money from which they received small benefit. Many times, as they trudged through the streets, weary and hungry, sometimes cold, they thought with homesick sadness of the sunny fields in which their earliest years had been passed, but the hard realities of the life they were now leading soon demanded their attention.
Naturally light-hearted, Filippo, or Phil, bore his hard lot more cheerfully than some of his comrades. But Giacomo was more delicate, and less able to bear want and fatigue. His livelier comrade cheered him up, and Giacomo always felt better after talking with Phil.
As the two boys were walking together, a heavy hand was laid on the shoulder of each, and a harsh voice said: "Is this the way you waste your time, little rascals?"
Both boys started, and looking up, recognized the padrone. He was a short man, very dark with fierce black eyes and a sinister