vigorous push against the pier, and the little boat flew out into
the open bay.

"What are you carrying there in that little bundle?" inquired the
padre, as they were floating on over a calm sea, now just beginning
to be lighted up with the earliest rays of the rising sun. "Silk,
thread, and a loaf, padre. The silk is to be sold at Anacapri, to a
woman who makes ribbons, and the thread to another."

"Spun by yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"You once learned to weave ribbons yourself, if I remember right?"

"I did, sir; but mother has been much worse, and I cannot stay so
long from home; and a loom to ourselves we are not rich enough to
buy."

"Worse, is she? Ah! dear, dear! when I was with you last, at Easter,
she was up."

"The spring is always her worst time. Ever since those last great
storms, and the earthquakes she has been forced to keep her bed from
pain."

"Pray, my child. Never slacken your prayers and petitions that the
Blessed Virgin may intercede for you; and be industrious and good,
that your prayers may find a hearing."