corner, and encouraged him to eat heartily: she was sure he needed it,
he was such a little scrap. To tell the truth, Rico did enjoy his supper
wonderfully well. Since the coffee in the morning, not a mouthful had
passed his lips; and so much had happened to excite him too.

As soon as he had eaten all that there was upon his plate, his poor
little eyes closed from fatigue, and he had the greatest difficulty
in keeping them open long enough to answer the landlord's questions
of where he belonged, and where he was going, while he also praised
the child's music. Rico answered that he belonged to nobody, and was
going nowhere.

The landlord spoke kindly and encouragingly to the boy, telling him that
he should be cared for that night, and in the morning he could go to see
Mrs. Menotti, who had sent him there. She was a good, kind woman, said
the landlord, who could perhaps employ him in her household, if he had
no place to go to where he belonged.

His wife, who stood by, plucked him constantly by the sleeve, trying to
stop him from talking; but he finished what he had to say, nevertheless,
for he had no idea what she meant by it all.

Pretty soon the men at the tables began to clamor again: they were
calling for their song.

The landlady, however, asserted herself. "No, no! on Sunday you shall
have it again; the child is tired to death." So saying, she took Rico by
the hand, and led him up into a big room where the harnesses hung. A big
heap of corn lay in one corner, and a bed stood in the other. In a very
few moments the boy was fast asleep.