But it was home, and whatever else it lacked, it had a front window, with
shutters, and a balcony with an iron railing, and when tucked up in their
beds at night, in the tiny dark alcove, the children could hear the soft
swish of the water against the embankment.

In spite of the window, even the best room was never very light, and only
an occasional streak of sunshine found its way in, but on those rare
occasions it fell upon the choicest treasure of the home, a rude colored
print of the Virgin, in a modest shrine, hung with gilded fringe. On the
shelf above, Luisa took care to see that a lamp was ever burning, and on
the table before it stood always a tiny vase of fresh flowers. What matter,
that the carpet was old, and the furniture worn, the Virgin's shrine was
there!

Unconsciously, the children trod gently in this room, and their
laughter was subdued, but in the kitchen--ah, there, their spirits were
unrestrained.

Maria was not long behind her brother, but the scampi,[Footnote: Fish.]
were already frying in the pan, before Giovanni, in his working shirt,
appeared in the doorway, hungry and ready for his dinner.

"Padre! Padre!" cried Andrea; "only guess--the pet I am to have!" Then,
with scarcely an instant's pause, he went on, in a shrill voice, "A pigeon,
padre, isn't that--GREAT?"

"Well, well!" Giovanni answered, taking his seat at the head of the table,
"and so you are to have a pigeon for a pet. I might have guessed anything
else--a parrot, a little singing bird, or perhaps, a couple of grilli