that at night he must carry home a satisfactory sum to the padrone, or
he would be brutally beaten; and poor Phil knew from sad experience that
this hard taskmaster had no mercy in such cases.

The block in which he stood was adjacent to Fifth Avenue, and was lined
on either side with brown-stone houses. It was quiet, and but few passed
through it during the busy hours of the day. But Phil's hope was that
some money might be thrown him from a window of some of the fine houses
before which he played, but he seemed likely to be disappointed, for he
played ten minutes without apparently attracting any attention. He
was about to change his position, when the basement door of one of the
houses opened, and a servant came out, bareheaded, and approached him.
Phil regarded her with distrust, for he was often ordered away as a
nuisance. He stopped playing, and, hugging his violin closely, regarded
her watchfully.

"You're to come in," said the girl abruptly.

"Che cosa volete?"(1) said Phil, suspiciously.

(1) "What do you want?"

"I don't understand your Italian rubbish," said the girl. "You're to
come into the house."

In general, boys of Phil's class are slow in learning English. After
months, and even years sometimes, their knowledge is limited to a few
words or phrases. On the other hand, they pick up French readily, and as
many of them, en route for America, spend some weeks, or months, in the
French metropolis, it is common to find them able to speak the language