Babbo home, and
they put him in bed, and one of the Brethren stayed to watch him that
night. He was badly hurt, and he never took a step again, though he
lived for six months. La Mamma did her best: the weaving was over,--she
could not have found much more weaving to do, even if Babbo had been
able to bear the noise of the loom,--but she knitted, and sewed, and did
what she could. Still, the money melted away. Babbo might have been put
into a hospital, but La Mamma couldn't bear to part with him, even
though he said often, as the days went on and he got no better, that he
would rather go into a hospital than lie there and feel that he was
eating up the little money he had put away for his wife and children.
"_Povera_ Leonora," he used to say,--"_povera_ Leonora, who must work so
hard while I lie here and play the signore!" And once or twice he cried
a little. But for the most part he was cheerful and bore his pain with
patience.

All the time _la povera Mamma_ kept up her courage, and made Babbo
believe that the money went three times as far as it did. But it melted
away; and, the day before Babbo died, when she counted it over she knew
that she had a hard struggle before her. She did not let him know it,
however. He thought she had money to last for two or three months. So
Easter came round, and still Babbo lay helpless and full of pain. The
priest came to confess and communicate him, as he does all the bedridden
at Easter-time, and that afternoon Babbo had less pain than for many a
day. He kissed and blessed us as usual at bedtime, and then he told La
Mamma to call him in the morning, so that he might light the lamp for
her. This was because the table with the lamp stood by his side of the
bed, and often La Mamma, who had to get up early, used to strike the
light without waking him. "But now that I have no pain," says Babbo,
"I'll strike a light for you, _cara mia_, so that you may have that
comfort." Easter fell early that year, in March, and the weather was
cold and stormy. When La Mamma woke up at four o'clock, the bells were
ringing for first mass, but it was cold and dark, and a storm was
raging. She could not bear to wake Babbo up, but she had promised to do
so, and she had a long day's work before her and no time to lose. So she
called him, very gently at first, and then louder. There was no answer,
and she touched his shoulder and shook him a little. Still there was no
answer, and, being frightened, she leaned