One of the boys was slightly larger and stronger than the other; his name, he managed to tell us, was Emilio Foresi. The first name of the other was Tomaso, but I have forgotten his surname. Tomaso, I recollect, had little gold rings in his ears. His voice was soft, and he had gentle manners. Under the influence of good food and a warm place to sleep both boys brightened visibly and even grew vivacious. On the third morning we heard Emilio singing some Neapolitan folk-song to himself. Yet they were shy about singing to us, and it was only after considerable coaxing that Theodora induced them to sing a few Italian songs together. Halstead had an old violin, and we found that Tomaso could play it surprisingly well. By carefully sorting our reserve of worn clothes and shoes we managed to fit out the little strangers more comfortably, but the problem of what to do with them remained. Grandmother Ruth thought that their _padrone_ might trace them and appear on the scene. Several days more passed; and then the old Squire, having business at Portland, decided to take them with him. He intended to find this Neapolitan _padrone_ and try to secure better treatment for the boys in the future. Addison drove them to the railway station, where the old Squire checked their empty image "rafts" in the baggage car. Before they left the old farm, first Emilio and then Tomaso took grandmother Ruth's hand very prettily and said, with deep feeling, "_Vi ringrazio_," several times, and managed to add "Tank you." After his return from Portland the old Squire told us that he had gone with the lads to the place where they lodged and had taken an officer with him. They found the _padrone_ in a basement, engaged in casting more images. At first the Italian was very angry; but partly by persuasion, partly by putting the fear of the law into his heart, they made him promise not to send his boys out again until May. The old Squire also enlisted the sympathies of two women in Portland, who undertook to see that the boys were better housed and cared for in the future. And there for the time being the episode of the little image venders ended. Twelve, perhaps it was thirteen, years passed. Addison, Halstead, Theodora and Ellen went their various ways in life, and of the group of young folks at the old farm I alone was left there. The old Squire was not able now to do more than oversee the work and to give me advice from his large experience of the past. One day, late in October, we were in the apple house getting the crop of winter apples ready for market--Baldwins, Greenings, Blue Pearmains, Russets, Orange Apples, Arctic Reds--about four hundred barrels of them. We were sorting the apples carefully and putting the "number ones" in fresh, new barrels.