“I think he means to run away,” said Pietro. “Did you see where he went?”
“Why should he want to run away?” asked Paul, who enjoyed tantalizing Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. “Did you not treat him well?”
“He is a little rascal,” said Pietro. “He is treated well, but he is a thief.”
“And you are his brother,” repeated Paul, significantly.
“Did you see where he went?” asked Pietro, getting angry. “I want to take him back to his father.”
“How should I know?” returned Paul, coolly. “Do you think I have nothing to do but to look after your brother?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” said Pietro, incensed.
“Don’t get mad,” said Paul, indifferently; “it won’t do you any good. Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother. I’ll tell him you want him if I see him.”
Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck him that the latter might be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly indifferent that he could judge nothing from his appearance. He concluded that Phil was wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.
It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for some more distant place. At any rate, there seemed no chance of getting any information out of Paul. So he adjusted his hand-organ and walked up the street leading from the ferry, looking sharply on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the runaway; but, of course, in vain.