"Vieni, Marta. We must hurry or everything will be sold to the foreigners. They have so much money they even throw it away. My dress must be red, and red is so beautiful! If we don't hurry. I'm sure they'll have it all. Please, Marta, aren't you ready?"
Marta had not the heart to keep the eager child waiting, and they started at once.
It was not they
Pappina walked as though on air, by Marta's side, looking at everything, prattling in her inimitable way. Marta was beginning to feel that even for herself life still held some charm.
The child had not once thought of home. She had been too absorbed in the newness of everything. Suddenly she caught sight of two ragged boys asleep on the ground, with their empty baskets over their faces. She stopped beside them.
"Marta, wait!" she commanded. "Maybe it's Vittorio or Filippo. Sometimes they don't come home at night. I must see if it is my brothers."
A passer–by, hearing her cry, uncovered the boys' heads. Eagerly Pappina peered into their faces. It was not they. She burst into tears.
"Padre—madre [Father—mother]!—I want to see them all! Take me home," she cried.