ring away. The flowers were fading, the people
were leaving one by one, and the hall would soon be deserted. What then
would become of poor Dino? It was decided at length, after much
consultation, to place him in the Orphans' Home.

The morning dawned and brought one of those clear, crisp November days
which are common in our New England after a rain, and Dino was taken to
his new home. This Home for Orphan Boys is a cosey, cheerful house, and
when Dino was introduced to the kind man who has charge and told if he
would be a good boy he should have a home there, have dinners and
suppers, have a place to sleep like other little boys, he gave a sigh of
relief, took a deliberate look around the sunny room, and then thrust
his little brown chubby hand into the pocket of his torn, dilapidated
trousers, and drew forth the pennies that were snugly tucked away in
their depths, and with a grateful smile, his black eyes fairly dancing
for joy, he handed them to the superintendent, saying, "You give me
home, I give you my pennies. I was so 'fraid I freeze to death."

It was touching to see how Dino clung to his little old fiddle. It
seemed to be the one connecting link between the days in Italy where he
had lived an easy, happy life with his mother whom he seemed to love so
dearly, and the new home which promised to give him shelter. His little
old fiddle was a source of much amusement to the children, whose tunes
he readily caught, and he soon became a great favorite. The visitors who
came to the Home always asked first for Dino, the Italian boy, and
seldom went away without leaving something for the little fellow.

As the days and weeks wore away, Dino constantly improved in mind and
manners, and developed all the sweetness of heart and disposition that
he promised on that November morning when he gave "his pennies for a
home." At the end of five years he left the Home and sought a place
where he could earn his own living.

Years passed and the memory of little Dino was fading out of the hearts
of those who had befriended him, when the Sabbath stillness of a
midsummer afternoon was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, as
the family sat on the broad piazza of a pleasant country house. A young
gentleman was seen coming up the shady avenue, and the question went
around, "Who can the stranger be?"

The bell rang and the message came: "Say to the lady, Dino would like to
see her. I think she will remember the name."

As