ine
little chap, and I like him. If ever that old brute gets hold of him
again, he shan't keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro, I'll go back and see
you on your arrival."

Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the next
boat. He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched, and sprang on
board. He cursed the interval of delay, fearing that it would give Phil
a chance to get away. However, there was no help for this. Time and tide
wait for no man, but it often happens that we are compelled to wait for
them. But at length the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro
sprang out and hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a
possible glimpse of the boy he sought. He did not see him, for the cars
were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with satisfaction as
they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the companion of Phil. He
had seen him talking to the little fiddler. Probably he would know where
he had gone. He walked up to Paul, who was standing near, and, touching
his cap, said: "Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little
brother?"

"Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately.

"Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. He was so high;" and Pietro
indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.

"There was a boy came over in the boat with me," said Paul.

"Yes, yes; he is the one, signore," said Pietro, eagerly.

"And he is your brother?"

"Si, signore."

"That's a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it even if Phil had
not told me. Phil is a handsome little chap. He wouldn't have such a
villainous-looking brother as you."

"Can you tell me where he has gone?" asked Pietro, eagerly.

"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" asked Paul, in turn.

"I think he means to run away," said Pietro. "Did you see where he
went?"

"Why should he want to run away?" asked Paul, who enjoyed tantalizing
Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. "Did you not treat him
well?"

"He is a little rascal," said Pietro. "He is treated well, but he is a
thief."

"And you are his brother," repeated Paul, significantly.

"Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, getting angry. "I want to
take him back to his father."

"How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly. "Do you think I have nothing
to do but to look after your brother?"

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Pietro, incensed.

"Don't get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it won't do you any good