"But where are you going? Come!" said the big man, drawing up.
"If you must know, we're going to Nuoro," said Olì eating as she spoke; "it would be a charity to give us a lift. We're as tired as donkeys!"
"Listen," said the big man, "go on to the other side of Mamojada, I have to stop there. After that I'll pick you up."
He kept his promise. Presently the wayfarers were sitting beside him on the box seat. He began to gossip with Olì. Anania was tired, but he felt acute pleasure in his position between his mother and this big man with the long whip, in the fresh fields and blue sky framed by the hood of the vehicle, in the swift trot of the horses. The greater mountains had now all disappeared; and the child thought of how Zuanne would envy him this long journey into a new district. "What a lot I shall tell him when I go home," he thought; "I'll say to him, 'I have ridden in a coach and you haven't.'"
"Why the devil are you going to Nuoro?" the big man was asking Olì.
"If you wish to know," she answered him, "I'm going to service. I've arranged with a good mistress. It's hopeless living at Fonni. The widow of Zuanne Atonzu has turned me out."
"That's not true," thought Anania. Why did his mother lie? Why didn't she say the truth that she was going to Nuoro to find her boy's father? Well, she probably had her reasons for lying. Anania did not bother himself, especially as he was sleepy.
He leaned against his mother and shut his eyes.
"Who's at the Cantoniera now?" asked Olì suddenly. "Is my father there still?"
"No, he's gone."