Only four more! But Tuttu might never put them in. That night he started on a long, long journey, and as the old grandmother with choking sobs placed the broken bottle on a shelf among her treasures, she turned to Tutti who was lying, worn out with grief, upon the doorstep.
"Come, my Tutti," she said, "there are only us two now. We must try and be very good to each other."
Years afterwards, Tutti, coming home on leave—for he had clung to his childish idea of being a soldier—found the broken fiasco in the corner where his grandmother had hidden it; and taking out the beans that had been lying there so long, he carried them to a little grave with a small white cross at the head of it.
"Dear Tuttu! He would like to have these growing round him," he thought, and planted them carefully amongst the flowers and grasses.
Grandmother Maddalena was too old to move out of the house now, but Father Giacomo watered the beans lovingly, and in the soft spring air they grew rapidly, so that they soon formed a beautiful tangle, hiding the cross and even the name that still stood there clearly in black letters
"Tuttu."