“Is this all?” he asked.
“It was cold,” said Phil, “and we could not get more.”
The padrone listened with an ominous frown.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Do you want your supper?”
Phil was puzzled by his manner, for he expected to be deprived of his supper on account of bringing less money than usual. Why should the padrone ask him if he wanted his supper? Though he was not hungry, he thought it best to answer in the affirmative.
“What would you like?” asked the padrone.
Again Phil was puzzled, for the suppers supplied by the padrone never varied, always consisting of bread and cheese.
“Perhaps,” continued the padrone, meeting no answer, “you would like to have coffee and roast beef.”
All was clear now. Phil understood that he had been seen going in or out of the restaurant, though he could not tell by whom. He knew well enough what to expect, but a chivalrous feeling of friendship led him to try to shield his young companion, even at the risk of a more severe punishment to be inflicted upon himself.
“It was my fault,” he said, manfully. “Giacomo would not have gone in but for me.”