“Is not this truly provoking?” said Piedro, as he passed by Francisco, who was selling fruit for his father. “Look, my basket is as heavy as when I left home and look at ’em yourself, they really are fine fresh fish to-day and yet, because that revengeful booby told how I took him in yesterday, not one of yonder crowd would buy them; and all the time they really are fresh to-day!” “So they are,” said Franscisco, “but you said so yesterday, when they were not; and he that was duped then, is not ready to believe you to-day. How does he know that you deserve it better?” “He might have looked at the fish,” repeated Piedro; “they are fresh to-day. I am sure he need not have been afraid.” “Ay,” said Francisco; “but as my father said to you once—the scalded dog fears cold water.” {308} Here their conversation was interrupted by the same English lad, who smiled as he came up to Francisco, and taking up a fine pine-apple, he said, in a mixture of bad Italian and English—“I need not look at the other side of this; you will tell me if it is not as good as it looks. Name your price; I know you have but one, and that an honest one; and as to the rest, I am able and willing to pay for what I buy; that is to say, my master is, which comes to the same thing. I wish your fruit could make him well, and it would be worth its weight in gold to me, at least. We must have some of your grapes for him.” “Is he not well?” inquired Francisco. “We must, then, pick out the best for him,” at the same time singling out a tempting bunch. “I hope he will like these; but if you could some day come as far as Resina (it is a village but a few miles out of town, where we have our vineyard), you could there choose for yourself, and pluck them fresh from the vines for your poor master.” “Bless you, my good boy; I should take you for an Englishman, by your way of dealing. I’ll come to your village. Only write me down the name; for your Italian names slip through my head. I’ll come to the vineyard if it was ten miles off; and all the time we stay in Naples (may it not be so long as I fear it will!), with my master’s leave, which he never refuses me to anything that’s proper, I’ll deal with you for all our fruit, as sure as my name’s Arthur, and with none else, with my good will. I wish all your countrymen would take after you in honesty, indeed I do,” concluded the Englishman, looking full at Piedro, who took up his unsold basket of fish, looking somewhat silly, and gloomily walked off.