“When did you come from Italy?”
“I cannot tell. I think it is somewhere about two months.”
“And did you see my mother before you came away?” asked Phil, eagerly.
“Yes, Filippo, I saw her. She told me if I saw you to say that she longed for her dear boy to return; that she thought of him day and night.”
“Did she say that, Lucia?”
“Yes, Filippo.”
“And is my mother well?” asked Phil, anxiously, for he had a strong love for his mother.
“She is well, Filippo—she is not sick, but she is thin, and she looks sad.”
“I will go and see her some day,” said Phil. “I wish I could see her now.”
“When will you go?”