"Guiseppe, are you angry with me?"
He was surprised and pleased. If there was a warm spot in Guiseppe's heart she had touched it. He took Pappina's face between his rough, broad hands.
"There, there, carina," he said, "Guiseppe's a bear—old and often crabbed. Just forget his faults and try to like him."
He pushed her almost roughly off his lap and began his morning repast. Guiseppe admitted to himself that he had missed the little elf while she was ill, more than he would like any one to know. He considered the feeling a weakness, and would not permit Pappina and Marta to see how glad, even happy he was to have the child well again.
"She must not know how angry my heart has been against her. She must not know how I have missed her, with her moods, her storms, her sunshine, and her prattle," he said to himself as he sat stolidly trying to conceal his pleasure.
Pappina, having little appetite, was soon away from the table, imitating the tarantella dancers, to the great amusement of both Marta and Guiseppe. Tiring of this, she ran first to Marta, whom she gave a big squeeze, then around the table to Guiseppe, about whose neck she put both arms.
"Guiseppe, dear Guiseppe," she cried, "I'm so glad we're going away! I'm tired of being shut up in the house. When shall we go? To–day, good Guiseppe?"
Guiseppe laid down his knife and fork. His face lighted up with pleasure as he took Pappina's two little hands caressingly in his.
"Marta!" he exclaimed, "do you hear what she calls me? 'Good Guiseppe!' Per bacco, I have never before been called good! Do you mean it, bambina?"
"I do, Guiseppe; truly I do!"