But his cruel master, without stopping to hear a word from the little
fellow, gave him a whipping, and sent him out again. He came to my gate,
long after I had gone to bed, and played and sang two or three songs;
but he did not sing very well, for he was too tired and sleepy.

Just across the street, in an unfinished building, the carpenters had
left a large pile of shavings. Pedro saw this by the moonlight, as he
went along; and he thought he would step in and lie down to rest. His
head had hardly touched the pillow of shavings before he was asleep.

He dreamed about his pleasant home far away in Italy. He thought he was
with his little sisters, and he saw his dear mother smile as she gave
him his supper; but, just as he was going to eat, some sudden noise
awoke him.

He was frightened to find it was daylight, and that the sun was high in
the sky. In the doorway stood a kind gentleman looking at him. Pedro
sprang up, and took his fiddle; but the gentleman stopped him as he was
going out, and asked if that pile of shavings was all the bed he had. He
spoke so kindly, that Pedro told him his story.

The gentleman felt so sorry for him, and was so pleased with his sweet,
sad face, that he took him to his own home, and gave him a nice warm
breakfast; and, being in want of an errand-boy, he concluded to let
Pedro have the place.

Pedro has lived happily in his new home ever since; and, though he still
likes to play on his fiddle, he has no wish to return to his old
wandering mode of life.