"Not a morsel!" was the stern reply. "If he is to be trained at all, it
must be done right. Come, children, give me your promise not to interfere."

"We won't," they answered in unison, and though Andrea still thought
the treatment very harsh, he dared not again raise his voice in further
protest.

It seemed very forlorn not to find Chico waiting on his window ledge
when he turned the corner of the church, and with heart aching for the
imprisoned bird, he entered the dark little shed and looked anxiously for
the basket. There it was, in the corner where Paolo had left it, but, as he
called once, and then again, there was no answering "coo."

Andrea's heart sank; perhaps the bird was sick. Beset by anxious thoughts
he crossed the room, took the basket in his hand and held it to his ear.
Not a sound! Genuinely frightened, he regretted bitterly that he had
ever wished the bird trained. Why had he not been content with him as he
was--the most beautiful bird in St. Mark's Square?

Turning the basket about, he looked it all over carefully. There was a
slight stir. He breathed a sigh of relief, then joyfully caught his breath
as he suddenly discovered two bright eyes looking straight at him through
one of the cracks.

"Chico!" he cried joyfully; "Chico! Are you all right?" Placing his ear to
the wicker prison, he caught a faint answering "coo," and a minute later
the very tip of the bird's bill found its way through one of the cracks. It
was heartrending, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that Andrea
restrained himself from tearing off the cover of the basket and feeding
his hungry pet, but he had given his promise, so he was obliged to content