Every morning they would start out for some new quarter of the city which was visited by tourists and held mysteries for Pappina. It meant money to have these foreigners admire the child. Every one stopped to listen to her. She was kept singing, dancing, here, there, and everywhere, it seemed to her. Many times she was willful, and would stubbornly refuse to obey Guiseppe.
A wine cart of Naples
"I'm tired of singing and dancing and being stared at," she would say, with a determined look on her little face that warned the man not to force her. "I've earned enough for to–day."
The child would always assert her independence when among people, and at a time quite impossible for Guiseppe to discipline her.
It is well that these two high–tempered people had Marta always with them. Often she was able to keep the peace when an outbreak threatened. Pappina loved her, and would listen to and obey her when no threats from Guiseppe could move her.
As the first Sunday in June drew near, preparations were begun for the Festival of the Constitution, the Italian Fourth of July; and to the nearness of this fete day Marta was indebted for many an opportunity to make the child forget Guiseppe when he showed an ugly temper.
Stores were draped with bunting. On all the principal streets arches were erected, and every man, woman, and child seemed to be preparing for it. Even Guiseppe made ready for the fete. Late one forenoon he took a sudden turn into the Corso Garibaldi and hurried down its broad walk at such a pace that even Pappina was almost breathless in trying to keep up with him.
"Where are you going now, Guiseppe?" she asked, seizing hold of him. "Is there a crowd some place, that you hurry so?"
Marta listened eagerly for a reply. It was a never–ending source of astonishment to her that Guiseppe would answer the child's questions without impatience; she, herself, rarely received a pleasant word from him.