"Filippo!" called Pietro, in harsh tones.
"I must go," said Phil, starting to his feet.
"Kiss me before you go," said Giacomo.
Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the little boy,
and then hurried out of the room. He never saw Giacomo again;
and this, though he knew it not, was his last farewell to his
little comrade.
So Phil commenced his wanderings. He was free in one way--he
could go where he pleased. The padrone did not care where he
picked up his money, as long as he brought home a satisfactory
amount. Phil turned to go up town, though he had no definite
destination in view. He missed Giacomo, who lately had wandered
about in his company, and felt lonely without him.
"Poor Giacomo!" he thought. "I hope he will be well soon."
"Avast there, boy!" someone called. "Just come to anchor, and
give us a tune."
Phil looked up and saw two sailors bearing down upon him (to use
a nautical phrase) with arms locked, and evidently with more
liquor aboard than they could carry steadily.
"Give us a tune, boy, and we'll pay you," said the second.
Phil had met such customers before, and knew what would please
them. He began playing some lively dancing tunes, with so much
effect that the sailors essayed to dance on the sidewalk, much to
the amusement of a group of boys who collected around them.
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