“Not now. To-morrow. Come then! Come and see all the little boats!”
When they reached the square, Mattina sat down to rest for a moment on the deep stone trough built round the fountain under the old eucalyptus tree. Most of the women had already filled their red earthen pitchers and were carrying them away on their shoulders.
Only one old woman was still leaning against the trunk of the tree, waiting for her pitcher to fill itself. As she saw Mattina she stepped forward.
“It is well I find you. Tell your aunt that the clothes are finished. She can send you to take them.”
“I will tell it to her.”
“It is to-morrow you leave?”
“Yes, it is to-morrow.”
“And who takes you?”
“I go with Yanni, the messenger.”
“Listen, Mattina,” said the old woman, “I have stitched you a pocket into the brown frock. In the town it is not like here; sometimes you may have some money, or someone may send you a letter; you must have somewhere to put things.”