"You are afraid one day that I shall cut the tickets off goods that have not been paid for." "Mattia, Mattia, don't!" "Well, if you are afraid for me, I am afraid for you. Let us both go." "It's impossible; my parents are nothing to you, but this is my father and mother, and I must stay with them. It is my family." "Your family! That man who steals, your father! That drunken woman your mother!" "Don't you dare say so, Mattia," I cried, springing up from my seat; "you are speaking of my father and mother and I must respect them and love them." "Yes, so you should if they are your people, but ... are they?" "You forget their many proofs." "You don't resemble your father or your mother. Their children are all fair, while you are dark. And then how is it they could spend so much money to find a child? Put all these things together and in my opinion you are not a Driscoll. You might write to Mother Barberin and ask her to tell you just what the clothes were like that you wore when you were found. Then ask that man you call your father to describe the clothes his baby had on when it was stolen. Until then I shan't move." "But suppose one day Mattia gets a bang on his poor head?" "That would not be so hard if he received the blow for a friend," he said, smiling. We did not return to the Red Lion Court until night. My father and mother passed no remark upon our absence. After supper my father drew two chairs to the fireside, which brought a growl from my grandfather, and then asked us to tell him how we had made enough money to live on in France. I told the story. "Not only did we earn enough to live on, but we got enough to buy a cow," said Mattia with assurance. In his turn he told how we came by the cow. "You must be clever kids," said my father; "show us what you can do." I took my harp and played a piece, but not my Neapolitan song. Mattia played a piece on his violin and a piece on his cornet. It was the cornet solo that brought the greatest applause from the children who had gathered round us in a circle. "And Capi, can he do anything?" asked my father. "He ought to be able to earn his food." I was very proud of Capi's talents. I put him through all his tricks and as usual he scored a great success. "Why, that dog is worth a fortune," exclaimed my father. I was very pleased at this praise and assured him that Capi could learn anything that one wished to teach him. My father translated what I said into English, and it seemed to me that he added something more which made everybody laugh, for the old grandfather winked his eye several times and said, "Fine dog!" "This is what I suggest," said my father, "that is if Mattia would like to live with us?" "I want to stay with Remi," replied Mattia.