ew.

"No, signore," answered Pietro. "Filippo has not come in."

"Do you think he has run away?" asked the padrone, suspiciously.

"I don't know," said Pietro.

"Have you any reason to think he intended to run away?"

"No," said Pietro.

"I should not like to lose him. He brings me more money than most of the
boys."

"He may come in yet."

"When he does," said the padrone, frowning, "I will beat him for being
so late. Is there any boy that he would be likely to tell, if he meant
to run away?"

"Yes," said Pietro, with a sudden thought, "there is Giacomo."

"The sick boy?"

"Yes. Filippo went in this morning to speak to him. He might have told
him then."

"That is true. I will go and ask him."

Giacomo still lay upon his hard pallet, receiving very little attention.
His fever had increased, and he was quite sick. He rolled from one side
to the other in his restlessness. He needed medical attention, but the
padrone was indifferent, and none of the boys would have dared to call
a doctor without his permission. As he lay upon his bed, the padrone
entered the room with a hurried step.

"Where is Giacomo?" he demanded, harshly.

"Here I am, signore padrone," answered the little boy, trembling, as he
always did when addressed by the tyrant.

"Did Filippo come and speak with you this morning, before he went out?"

"Si, signore."

"What did he say?"

"He asked me how I felt."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I felt sick."

"Nothing more?"

"I told him I thought I should die.'

"Nonsense!" said the padrone, harshly; "you are a coward. You have a
little cold, that is all. Did he say anything about running away?"

"No, signore."

"Don't tell me a lie!" said the tyrant, frowning.

"I tell you the truth, signore padrone. Has not Filippo come home?"

"No."

"I do not think he has run away," said the little boy.

"Why not?"

"I think he would tell me."

"So you two are friends, are you?"

"Si, signore; I love Filippo," answered Giacomo, speaking the last words
tenderly, and rather to himself than to the padrone. He looked up to
Phil, though little older than himself, with a mixture of respect
and devotion, leaning upon him as the weak are prone to lean upon the
strong.

"Then you will be glad to hear," said the padrone, with a refinement of
cruelty, "that I shall beat him worse than last night for staying out so
late."

"Don't beat him, padrone," pleaded Giacomo, bursting into tea