I touched my companion's arm, and we stopped and looked at the boy some
moments, and then passed on. But I couldn't go away, I wanted so much
to know what that little boy was thinking about. So we went back again,
and watched him a few minutes longer. He had not moved from his
position. There he sat, with his little chin in his hand, building air
castles.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" said I, touching him gently on the
shoulder.

He started, and the bright color flushed to his very temples. I fancied
that I had frightened him, or wounded his feelings. Perhaps he imagined
that I thought he was trying to _steal_ that money. So I said quickly,
"Don't be afraid of me; I only felt curious to know what your thoughts
were. I love little children. Now tell me--you were wishing all that
bright money was _yours_, were you not?"

"Yes," said he, veiling his great dark eyes with their long lashes.

"I thought so," said I; "and now, supposing you had it, what would you
do with it, my darling?"

Now, very likely you think he told me of the kites, and tops, and
balls, and horses, and marbles that he would buy with it.

No--he looked up earnestly in my face for a minute, as if he would read
_my_ thoughts, and then he said, with his great eyes swimming in tears,
"I would give it all to my mother."

I didn't care _whose_ boy he was--he was _mine_ then. So I just kissed
him, and tried to keep from crying myself, while I asked him where he
lived.

He told me in ---- Court; and then we took hold of his hands and went
home with him.

Such a home!

A little low room, with one small window, and no furniture in it,
except an old rickety bedstead, upon which lay a woman about thirty
years old, wasting away in a consumption.

Her large eyes glittered like stars, and on each cheek burned a bright
red fever-spot. An old shawl was thrown on the bed for a counterpane.
She had neither sheets nor blankets, and the chill night air blew
through the broken window-panes, making her cough so fearfully that I
thought she must die _then_.

Little Angelo crept to my side, and pointing to the bed, said, "That's
why I wanted the money."

Well, this was her story, which (in broken English) she told us
(between her coughing spells): About a year before, she came over to
this country from Italy with her husband. He was a very bad man, and as
soon as he landed from the ship he ran off with all their money, and
left his wife to take care o