“Be the same token, ye did nothin’ iv the koind, for it’s mesilf that remimbers seein’ her take out that pictoor when ye ran to the dure at her biddin’, and putt another wan in its place. Then it was she putt in her own ugly mug and ruined the hull iv us. Sure anny blind man can see it now wid half an eye. Worra, worra, why didn’t I know what it mint at the toime!” “I will kill her,” Bertino said in a low voice, and Signor Tomato dropped wearily on the ground. It was the moment for a soul-thrilling proverb, but the apt one would not come, and he eased his feelings with the poor makeshift, “He who goes slow goes safe” (_Chi va piano va sano_). No impolite questions were put to Bertino concerning the affair that had necessitated his sudden exit from Mulberry, nor did Bertino give any hint of his belief, inspired by Juno’s ruse, that Signor Di Bello had been laid low. Had not the ethics of Mulberry rendered the knife-play and the names of all concerned a forbidden subject, they could have told him that his uncle was up and about and cracking walnuts in his usual form. But the _vendetta_ is sacred, and Bridget, itching as she was to discuss the murderous attempt, was too much Italianized to venture upon that hallowed ground. Aided by their knowledge of Signor Di Bello’s admiration for Juno, however, the Tomatoes were easily able to understand why Bertino had risen to the assertion of a husband’s rights under the law of the stiletto. When Bertino told them he had slept in the pipe every night since his hasty departure from the city, the banker, with an expansive grace that atoned handsomely for the insult of attempting to slay him, begged him to remain a guest at Villa Tomato. They were not quite settled in their summer home, to be sure, but in a few minutes they would be prepared to serve breakfast. The formality ended here, for one and all they fell to the task of putting their house in order. First the clamour of Mike, Pat, and Biddy was silenced by issuing to each a large chunk of coarse bread, with the command that they go at once and gather dry twigs for firewood. The urchins returned quickly with the stock of bread greatly diminished, but the store of firewood not much increased. Meantime Signor Tomato and Bertino had set up the stove, and fitted a sheet-iron chimney to the end of the pipe that was to serve as kitchen and parlour. Bridget soon had a fire crackling, though it tried her back somewhat stooping as she moved from the parlour door to the kitchen. But she did not grumble. Her heart warmed with womanly response to the blessing of a home, lowly as it was, and she stirred inside and out of the pipe with a jollity of temper that bespoke the halcyon days of the babies.