The afternoon was passing, and he
was earning nothing. He finally uncovered his organ and began to
play. A few gathered around him, but they were of that class
with whom money is not plenty. So after a while, finding no
pennies forthcoming, he stopped suddenly, but did not move on, as
his auditors expected him to. He still kept his eyes fixed on
Mrs. McGuire's dwelling. He did this so long as to attract
observation.
"You'll know the house next time, mister," said a sharp boy.
Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.
"Will you do something for me?" he asked.
"How much?" inquired the boy, suggestively.
"Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.
"It isn't much," said the boy, reflectively. "Tell me what you
want."
Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived
to make the boy understand that he was to go round to the back
door and tell Mrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. He
intended to hide close by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped,
on the strength of his disappearance, he would descend upon him
and bear him off triumphantly.
Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back
door and knocked.
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