Next day Tony left Anna's garden early in the morning. He ambled along the smooth motor road, singing and begging whenever he found someone to beg from.

On each side of the road were black posts with white caps on them, glistening in the sun, polished to shine. Snow-white oxen passed, driven by farmers.

In vineyards grapevines climbed and twisted about old trees. In nearly every archway a baby, a goat, or a donkey stood and stared at Tony as he passed.

Women and children with large baskets or bundles on their heads trudged by. Tiny donkeys carried mountainous loads on their backs.

Occasionally, there would be an automobile. Tony liked the little cars named "Balilla," after the Boys' Group. They are the smallest Italian cars made.

Tony bought chestnuts and munched them. Chestnuts often take the place of bread among the poor people.

Toward the end of day Tony began to miss Tina. He had seldom been separated from her for such a long time. So he returned to Anna's house.

He hoped that Anna had not forgotten to leave his dinner. He also hoped that her father would not forget to tell more stories tonight. This was a pleasant life.

But, of course, Tony was too wise to think that he could go on living like this forever. Guido might find him. Or Anna's father might discover him.

Yet if he ran off with Tina he would be a "thief like Guido!" No, that would never, never do!

Oh, how difficult it all was!

But upon arriving at Tina's tent he forgot his troubles, for he found there a neatly covered dish. It contained macaroni, meat, and salad. An ideal meal for an Italian boy!

Also, Anna had really left some torrone on the plate. Tony sighed with pleasure and began to eat. Good little Anna!

All day the little girl had been thinking of the beggar boy. However, she had kept her adventure a secret.

But, oh, Tony, beware! Anna is very young, and it is difficult for small children to keep secrets. Especially, when secrets are as interesting as you are!

This evening the weather was cooler. The moon did not shine. When Tony finished his dinner, he slipped under the window as he had done before. He hoped Anna's father would tell more stories of Italy.

Presently, he saw the family enter the room. They had dined. The mother took up her sewing. The father settled himself in his chair with a book.

Anna, with her dog, nestled down in his lap. Tony knew that now more stories were coming. He leaned against the side of the house.

He closed his eyes contentedly and listened.

"It is early," said Anna's father. "We shall have a long time to read tonight. Shall we hear more about the cities of Italy?"

"Yes, and about animals, too," said Anna.

Her father laughed. "Perhaps we shall meet some as we wander," he said. "Listen, now, while I tell you of Florence.

"It is a city of ancient palaces! In the days of the civil war, homes of the rich were built like fortresses. This was to protect them from the enemy. Most of these prison-like palaces still stand.

"Florence is a city of art! The famous Campanile, or bell tower, reminds us of its artist-architect, Giotto. Here is a story told about the painter when he was a peasant lad tending his father's sheep.

"One day a great artist named Cimabue paid a visit to the countryside. He was impressed by a sketch which the young shepherd had made.

"He gained the consent of Giotto's father to take his son to Florence. There he promised to teach the boy how to paint.

"So Giotto became Cimabue's apprentice, or helper. He worked hard and learned a great deal. But, like all boys, he was fun-loving. One day he played a joke upon his master.

"Cimabue had gone out, leaving in the studio an unfinished portrait of a gentleman. When he returned, there was a fly sitting upon the nose of his painting.

"He tried to brush off the fly but it would not move. He looked more closely and discovered what had happened. His mischievous young apprentice, Giotto, had painted that fly!

"The master was not angry. He enjoyed the joke and recognized the lad's skill.

"Giotto became known as the father of one of the first schools of painting.

"Florence is also a city of great men!

"One day, long ago, a nine-year-old boy named Dante went to the feast of flowers, which is celebrated every year. Here, among the beautiful blossoms, he beheld one more beautiful and sweet than all the rest.

"But this one was not a flower. She was a little maiden and her name was Beatrice. All day long Dante watched her as she played about, and never, throughout his whole life, did he forget her.

"Though they seldom met, the little girl named Beatrice was forever with Dante in his dreams. To her he wrote most of his marvelous poetry. For Dante became Italy's greatest poet!

"Florence, city of wonders!

"A legend tells that when Christ went to heaven he carried with him a cricket. So, each year, before Ascension Day, everybody buys a cricket.

"They guard their crickets most carefully. For, if one should die, misfortune befalls its owner.

"On Ascension Day a crowd gathers in the park. Here there is much gaiety, with balloons, music, and fireworks.

"At a certain time each person opens the door of his cricket's cage and frees it.

"This is an anxious moment. For, if the cricket leaps into the air, good fortune will follow the owner. But if he creeps slowly away, his poor owner will suffer bad luck.

"Of course, today few people really believe this. But they still keep up the quaint old custom.

"Florence is a grey cluster of narrow streets and dignified squares. It seems to bulge with art treasures, and it has a charm of its own.

"Near Florence, in Pisa, is the curious Leaning Tower. It is one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It seems to be toppling over. Yet it has stood this way for hundreds of years. Maybe it is tired."

Anna's father stopped reading.

"Is my little girl tired, too?" he asked. "Shall I put down the book?"

"No, no, Papa!" said Anna.

Tony, under the window wanted to answer, "No, no!" too. But, then, his opinion had not been asked.

"The next story is about Venice," continued the father.

"Once upon a time there lived in Italy a people known as the Veneti. They were not fish, yet they built a city in the water.

"Savage tribes had driven them from their land. They had no home. So they settled upon some small islands at the head of the Adriatic Sea. They called their island-city Venice.

"Fish were plentiful. They salted them and traded them for treasures of all kinds. People began to come from everywhere to buy these treasures. Venice became the most important market in Europe.

"St. Mark is the patron saint of Venice. To him the Veneti, or Venetians, have built a wonderful cathedral. In front stands the statue of a lion, the favorite animal of St. Mark.

"Four huge horses adorn the door. Though they are made of bronze, they have travelled widely. They have been moved to different places at many times.

"Inside, the cathedral is decorated with mosaics. They are made of bits of colored stone or glass fitted together.

"St. Mark's Square is the largest piece of ground in Venice. The rest is water. Streets are canals. Boatmen guide long, black boats called gondolas through these canals. They sing and cry out strange signals to other boatmen.

"In years gone by Venice, like Rome, was a world of its own. A Doge, or Duke, ruled over the city.

"Between the Doge's Palace and the prison is a bridge. Over this bridge marched those condemned to prison by the Doge. As they marched they sighed and that is why the bridge is known as 'The Bridge of Sighs.'

"On one of the little islands live the glass blowers. Just as you blow soap bubbles, so they blow melted glass into vases and bowls. Venetian glass is famous.

"There are hundreds of pigeons flying about St. Mark's Square. While you are in Venice, you must surely allow a pigeon to sit upon your head. If you do not do this, your visit will not be complete and I am sure the pigeon will be disappointed!

"Naturally (and this is most important to the pigeon) you must put some corn on your head first. It is not your hair nor your hat which attracts him!

"Venice is a city of Dreams! And—animals!"

The father looked up from his book. Anna laughed.

"Yes, that is true," she said. "There was St. Mark's lion, the bronze horses, the pigeons, and—and—oh, yes, the fish!"

"You have forgotten some of the other animals we read about in the stories of other cities," said her father.

Anna looked puzzled.

"Don't you remember the crickets of Florence?" asked her father. "And that fly which Giotto painted on the nose of Cimabue's painting!"

"Oh, that was a nice chapter," said the little girl. "Now some more."

Her father began to read again:

"The greatest playwright in the world was Shakespeare. He was an Englishman. He wrote a play called 'Romeo and Juliet.'"

"Was it about animals?" asked Anna.

"No," smiled her father. "It was about two lovers. It is a very famous story and the scene is laid in Verona, an Italian city.

"In Verona there is a beautiful little grave where they say Romeo and Juliet are buried. The statue of Shakespeare stands over it."

"But how can they be buried if they were only book people?" asked Anna.

"That is a good question," said her father. "Of course, it cannot be true unless such people really lived."

"Maybe they buried the book which Mr. Shakespeare wrote!" decided Anna.

Just then there came a queer, muffled noise under the window. Tony had sneezed! Anna's father, turning the pages of the book, did not seem to hear it. But Anna, who had been thinking of Tony, did.

She wanted so much to tell her father about the poor boy. She really did not think that her father would be unkind to him. Yet she had promised to say nothing, and she must keep her word.

"Papa," she suddenly asked. "If you had a little boy who told stories and did not obey, what would you do to him?"

Her father hesitated a moment. Then he answered, "I would try to teach him the beauty of truth and I would discipline him."

His voice had a very severe ring. He continued:

"There are too many lazy little beggars in the streets of Naples, like that lying young son of the Marionette Man. They have never been properly trained, and they are a disgrace to a beautiful city. They should be taught. They should be made to obey!"

Upon the word "obey," his hand came down with a bang on the arm of the chair. It made Tony jump.

CHAPTER VII