“I don’t want to see him,” said Giacomo, bitterly. “He sold me to the padrone. My mother wept bitterly when I went away, but my father only thought of the money.” Filippo and Giacomo were from the same town in Calabria. They were the sons of Italian peasants who had been unable to resist the offers of the padrone, and for less than a hundred dollars each had sold his son into the cruelest slavery. The boys were torn from their native hills, from their families, and in a foreign land were doomed to walk the streets from fourteen to sixteen hours in every twenty-four, gathering money from which they received small benefit. Many times, as they trudged through the streets, weary and hungry, sometimes cold, they thought with homesick sadness of the sunny fields in which their earliest years had been passed, but the hard realities of the life they were now leading soon demanded their attention. Naturally light-hearted, Filippo, or Phil, bore his hard lot more cheerfully than some of his comrades. But Giacomo was more delicate, and less able to bear want and fatigue. His livelier comrade cheered him up, and Giacomo always felt better after talking with Phil. As the two boys were walking together, a heavy hand was laid on the shoulder of each, and a harsh voice said: “Is this the way you waste your time, little rascals?” Both boys started, and looking up, recognized the padrone. He was a short man, very dark with fierce black eyes and a sinister countenance. It was his habit to walk about the streets from time to time, and keep a watch, unobserved, upon his young apprentices, if they may be so called. If he found them loitering about, or neglecting their work, they were liable to receive a sharp reminder. The boys were both startled at his sudden appearance, but after the first start, Phil, who was naturally courageous, recovered his self-possession. Not so with Giacomo, who was the more afraid because he knew he had gained but little money thus far. “We are not wasting our time, padrone,” said Phil, looking up fearlessly. “We will see about that. How long have you been together?” “Only five minutes.” “How much money have you, Filippo?” “A dollar and twenty cents.” “Good; you have done well. And how is it with you, Giacomo?” “I have forty cents.” “Then you have been idle,” said the padrone, frowning. “No, signore,” said the boy, trembling. “I have played, but they did not give me much money.” “It is not his fault,” said Phil, coming boldly to the defense of his friend. “Attend to your own affairs, little scrape-grace,” said the padrone, roughly. “He might have got as much as you.” “No, padrone; I was lucky. A kind lady gave me fifty cents.” “That is not my affair. I don’t care where you get the money. But if you don’t bring home all I expect, you shall feel the stick.”