"Have you had dinner, Filippo?"

"Yes, I had some bread and cheese, and an apple."

"Did you buy the apple?"

"No; one of the schoolboys gave it to me. It was very good," said Phil,
in a tone of enjoyment. "I had not eaten one for a long time."

"Nor I. Do you remember, Filippo, the oranges we had in Italy?"

"I remember them well."

"I was happy then," said Giacomo, sighing. "There was no padrone to beat
me, and I could run about and play. Now I have to sing and play all day.
I am so tired sometimes,--so tired, Filippo."

"You are not so strong as I, Giacomo," said Phil, looking with some
complacency at his own stout limbs.

"Don't you get tired, Filippo?"

"Yes, often; but I don't care so much for that. But I don't like the
winter."

"I thought I should die with cold sometimes last winter," said Giacomo,
shuddering. "Do you ever expect to go back to Italy, Filippo?"

"Sometime."