“What is the matter, Giacomo?” asked Phil, anxiously.
“I feel so cold, Filippo—so cold and tired. I wish I could rest.”
The boys were in Printing House Square, near the spot where now stands the Franklin statue.
“If you want to rest, Giacomo,” said Phil, pityingly, “we will go into French’s Hotel a little while.”
“I should like to.”
They entered the hotel and sat down near the heater. The grateful warmth diffused itself through their frames, and Giacomo sank back in his seat with a sigh of relief.
“Do you feel better, Giacomo?” asked his comrade.
“Yes, Filippo; I wish I could stay here till it is time to go home.”
“We will, then. We shall get no more money outside.”
“The padrone——”