The little girl then dried her eyes with her doubled fists, because she saw that comare Sidora was preparing to open the oven.
"Poor comare Nunzia!" said a neighbor, appearing at the door. "The gravediggers are on their way. They just passed by here."
"Heaven protect me! as I am under Mary's grace!"[19] exclaimed the women, crossing themselves.
Comare Sidora took the cake out of the oven, brushed off the ashes, and handed it, smoking hot, to the little girl, who took it in her apron and walked away slowly, slowly, blowing on it as she went.
"Where are you going?" cried comare Sidora. "Stay here! There's a black-faced ba-bau at your house who carries folks off."
The little orphan listened gravely, with wide-opened eyes. Then she replied in the same obstinate drawl,—
"I am going to carry it to my mamma."
"Your mamma is dead; stay here," said one of the neighbors. "Eat your cake."
Then the little girl squatted down on the door-step, the image of sadness, holding her cake in her hand without offering to eat it.
Then suddenly seeing "il babbo" coming, she jumped up joyously and ran to meet him.