"Carino!" said the doctor, smoothing the boy's curly hair. "Lie still a
little longer."
The voice was like a caress, and the boy sank back. But presently he
raised himself again, and gazed around the room as if looking for
something. The good mother understood him perfectly, and from a chair on
which his clothes were lying she picked up his little grey squirrel. It
was frozen stiff with the cold and now quite dead, but he grasped it
tightly and kissed it passionately, while big teardrops rolled on to his
cheeks.
"Carino!" said the doctor again, taking the dead squirrel away, and
after a while the boy lay quiet and was comforted.
"Italiano--si?"
"Si, Signore."
"From which province?"
"Campagna Romana, Signore."
"Where does he say he comes from, doctor?"
"From the country district outside Rome. And now you are living at
Maccari's in Greek Street--isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been in England--one year, two years?"
"Two years and a half, sir."
"And what is your name, my son?"
"David Leone."
"A beautiful name, carino! David Le-o-ne," repeated the doctor,
smoothing the curly hair.
"A beautiful boy, too! What will you do with him, doctor?"
"Keep him here to-night at all events, and to-morrow we'll see if some
institution will not receive him. David Leone! Where have I heard that
name before, I wonder? Your father is a farmer?"
But the boy's face had clouded like a mirror that has been breathed
upon, and he made no answer.
"Isn't your father a farmer in the Campagna Romana, David?"
"I have no father," said the boy.
"Carino! But your mother is alive--yes?"
"I have no mother."
"Caro mio! Caro mio! You shall not go to the institution to-morrow, my
son," said the doctor, and then the mirror cleared in a moment as if the
sun had shone on it.
"Listen, father!"
Two little feet were drumming on the floor above.
"Baby hasn't gone to bed yet. She wouldn't sleep until she had seen the
boy, and I had to promise she might come down presently."
"Let her come down now," said the doctor.
The boy was supping a basin of broth when the door burst open with a
bang, and like a tiny cascade which leaps and bubbles in the sunlight, a
little maid of three, with violet eyes, golden complexion, and glossy
black hair, came bounding into the room. She was trailing behind her a
train of white nightdress, hobbling on the portion in front, and
carrying under her arm a cat, which, being held out by the neck, was
coiling its body and kicking its legs like a rabbit.