bird he darted forward and snatched the piece of
good white bread, and holding it in both hands he
began to munch to his heart's content. How long
it was since he had tasted anything like this! It
was so delicious that for a few blissful moments he
forgot where he was, forgot his aunt and the great
man who was looking at him with such kind eyes.

But presently he heard his own name spoken
and then he looked up and remembered. `And
so, Filippo, thou wouldst become a monk?' the prior
was saying. `Let me see--how old art thou?'

`Eight years old, your reverence,' said Mona
Lapaccia before Filippo could answer. Which was
just as well, as his mouth was still very full.

`And it is thy desire to leave the world, and
enter our convent?' continued the prior. `Art
thou willing to give up all, that thou mayest
become a servant of God?'

The little dirty brown hands clutched the bread
in dismay. Did the kind man mean that he was to
give up his bread when he had scarcely eaten half
of it?

`No, no; eat thy bread, child,' said the prior, with
an understanding nod. `Thou art but a babe, but we
will make a good monk of thee yet.'