Meyer merely held his gaze in a moment of angry silence and turned to his work. Tommaso rushed back into his flat, pushed things from the table, seized a pen and wrote a hurried note to his leader. CONGRESSMAN VASA: Men unload guns in our street. He say killa me if I tell. I tell him go t’ell. I tell him go t’ell two times. I Americano. My kid he be president--maybe-- TOMMASO BENDA. He hurried Angela into her best new American cut dress and sent her with the boy to Long Island to tell Vassar. The visit all but ended in a tragedy for poor Angela. While searching the spacious Holland grounds for her leader, the boy suddenly spied a hatchet with which the master had been mending a box in which he was cultivating a precious orange-tree that had been carefully guarded in a hothouse during the winter months. The kid saw his chance to emulate the example of George Washington. He lost no time. The tree was well hacked before Holland pounced upon him. The old man had him by the ear when Angela dashed to the rescue. She saw the scarred tree with horror and her apologies were profuse. “Ah, pardon, signor! You see his little suit--he play George Wash--and cutta the cherry-tree--” She paused and shook the boy fiercely. “Ah--you maka me seek!” Holland began to smile at the roguish beauty of the boy glancing up from the corners of his dark, beautiful eyes. Vassar, Virginia, Zonia and Marya hearing the commotion, rushed up. Angela extended her apologies to all. “You see, he really think he’s leetle George Wash--I mak him speak his piece--you like to hear it?” Her offer was greeted by a chorus of approval. Angela fixed the child with a stern look. “Speeka your piece!” The boy shook his head. “Speeka-your-piece!” The order was a threat this time and little Tommaso yielded. Bowing gracefully, he faced the group and recited with brave accent: My Country, ’tis of thee I cutta the cherry-tree, Sweet land of libertee My name is George Wash! He bowed again as all laughed and applauded. Virginia took him in her arms and kissed him. While she was yet complimenting the boy on his fine speech Angela whispered to Vassar: “My man Tommaso--he want to see you, signor! He send this--” She slipped the note into Vassar’s hand, repeated her apologies and hurried from the lawn, shaking Tommaso: “Ah, you leetle mik! You maka me seek--! I tella you play George Wash and cutta the cherry-tree--and oh, my Mother of God! You play hell and cutta the _orange_-tree!” Little Tommaso took the scolding philosophically. Orange or cherry-trees were all the same to him. He merely answered his mother’s dramatic rage with a twinkle of his eye until she stooped at last and kissed him. CHAPTER XIV Vassar looked at the scrawled note and saw that he must return to the city. The incident probably meant nothing and yet it brought to his mind a vague uneasiness.