Speech was now unavoidable. Ruggiero stood on tiptoe and the old man
bent over sideways, much as a heavily laden Dutch galliot heels to a
stiff breeze.

"The mother is dead!" bawled the boy in his high strong voice.

Oddly enough the tears came into his eyes for the first time, as he
shouted at the deaf old man, and at the same moment little Sebastiano's
lower lip trembled. Antonino shook his head in rough sympathy.

"We have also beaten Don Pietro Casale, and so we have run away," yelled
the boy.

Antonino grunted thoughtfully and his grey eyes twinkled as he slowly
righted himself and stood up again. Very deliberately he went into the
shop again and presently came back with a big measure of weak wine and
water.

"Drink," he said, holding out the jug.

Again the two boys pulled at their caps and each raised the jug
respectfully toward the old man before drinking.

"To health," each said, and Antonino nodded gravely.

Then Ruggiero took the jug inside and rinsed it, as he knew it was his
duty to do and set it on the table. When he came back he stood beside
his brother, waiting for Don Antonino to speak. A long silence followed.