But one morning Garrone jumped up and said, “The first person who touches Nelli will get such a lick from me that he will spin round three times!”
Franti paid no attention to him; the blow was given: and from that time forth no one ever touched Nelli again. The master placed Garrone near him, on the same bench. They have become friends. Nelli has grown very fond of Garrone. As soon as he enters the schoolroom he looks to see if Garrone is there. He never goes away without saying, “Good bye, Garrone,” and Garrone does the same with him. When Nelli drops a pen or a book under the bench, Garrone stoops quickly, to prevent his stooping and tiring himself, and picks it up for him. Then he helps him to put his things in his bag and to twist himself into his coat. For this Nelli loves him, and gazes at him constantly; and when the master praises Garrone he is as pleased, as though he had been praised himself.
Nelli must at last have told his mother all about the ridicule of the early days, and what they made him suffer; and about the comrade who defended him, and how he had grown fond of the latter; for this is what happened this morning. The master had sent me to carry to the director, half an hour before the close of school, a programme of the lesson, and while I was in the office, a small, blonde woman dressed in black came in. It was Nelli's mother. She asked:
“Signor Director, is there a boy named Garrone in the class with my son?”
“Yes,” replied the head-master.
“Will you have the goodness to let him come here for a moment? I have a word to say to him.”
