pale face and blue eyes.

These words gave Phil a strange pleasure. Since his arrival in America
he had become accustomed to harsh words and blows; but words of kindness
were strangers to his ears. For an hour he forgot the street and his
uninviting home, and felt himself surrounded by a true home atmosphere.
He almost fancied himself in his Calabrian home, with his mother and
sisters about him--in his home as it was before cupidity entered his
father's heart and impelled him to sell his own flesh and blood into
slavery in a foreign land. Phil could not analyze his own emotions,
but these were the feelings which rose in his heart, and filed it with
transient sadness.

"I thank you much," he said. "I will come again some day."

"Come soon, Phil," said Paul. "You know where my necktie stand is. Come
there any afternoon between four and five, and I will take you home to
supper. Do you know the way out, or shall I go with you?"

"I know the way," said Phil.

He went downstairs and once more found himself on the sidewalk. It was
but six o'clock, and five or six hours were still before him before he
could feel at liberty to go home. Should he return too early, he would
be punished for losing the possible gains of the hour he had lost, even
if the sum he brought home were otherwise satisfactory. So, whatever may
be his fatigue, or however inclement the weather, the poor Italian boy
is compelled to stay out till near midnight, before he is permitted to
return to the hard pallet on which only he can sleep off his fatigues.