“I have no home now,” said Phil, with tears in his eyes.
“And have you no father and mother?”
“Yes,” said Phil. “They live in Italy.”
“And why did they let you go so far away?”
“They were poor, and the padrone offered them money,” answered Phil, forced to answer, though the subject was an unpleasant one.
“And did they know he was a bad man and would bate you?”
“I don’t think they knew,” said Phil, with hesitation. “My mother did not know.”
“I’ve got three childer myself,” said Bridget; “they’ll get wet comin’ home from school, the darlints—but I wouldn’t let them go with any man to a far country, if he’d give me all the gowld in the world. And where does that man live that trates you so bad?”
“In New York.”
“And does Peter—or whatever the haythen’s name is—live there too?”