in his pocket. We gave two soldi each, and bought three big oranges. We went up to the garret. At the door Derossi took off his medal and put it in his pocket. I asked him why.
“I don't know,” he answered; “in order not to put on airs: it strikes me as more delicate to go in without my medal.”
We knocked; the father, that big man who looks like a giant, opened to us; his face was sad and drawn.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Garrone replied: “We are Antonio's school-mates, and we have brought him some oranges.”
“Ah, poor Tonino!” exclaimed the mason, shaking his head, “I fear that he will never eat your oranges!” and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
He made us come in. We entered an attic room, where we saw the little mason asleep in a little iron bed; his mother hung dejectedly over the bed, with her face in her hands, and she hardly turned to look at us. On one side hung brushes, a trowel, and a plaster-sieve. Over the feet of the sick boy was spread the mason's jacket, white with lime.
The poor boy was thin and very, very white; his nose was pointed, and his breath was short. O dear Tonino, my little comrade! you who were so kind and merry, how it pains me! what would I not give to see you make the hare's face once more, poor little mason!
Garrone laid an orange on his pillow, close to his face; the odor waked him; he grasped it instantly; then let go of it, and gazed intently at Garrone.
“It is I,” said the latter; “Garrone: do you know me?” He smiled faintly, lifted his stubby hand with
