Phil hesitated.

"You are kind," he said, "but I fear the padrone."

"What will he do to you?"

"He will beat me if I don't bring home enough money."

"How much more must you get?"

"Sixty cents."

"You can play better after a good supper. Come along; I won't keep you
long."

Phil made no more objection. He was a healthy boy, and his wanderings
had given him a good appetite. So he thanked Paul, and walked along by
his side. One object Paul had in inviting him was, the fear that Tim
Rafferty might take advantage of his absence to renew his assault upon
Phil, and with better success than before.

"How old are you, Phil?" he asked.

"Twelve years."

"And who taught you to play?"

"No one. I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."