Words proved useless. Pappina must wait, so she sat down close beside Filippo, watching the game patiently for some time. Tired of this, she opened her apron, trying to count her wealth.
Luck certainly was against Filippo. His day's profits from the sale of cigarettes were slowly but surely dwindling away. To lose his earnings usually meant to remain away from home all night, for to return without money brought worse hardships than sleeping supperless on the street. Alas, to–day there was no way out of it! He must make good his losses. Great beads of perspiration stood on his brow as he recklessly risked his last soldo. Lost! Muttering an oath, he turned toward Pappina, who still sat at his elbow absorbed in her efforts to count her soldi.
Playing mora
At another time Filippo would have laughed at his favorite sister as she counted softly to herself, "One, two, six, four," but to–day he heard nothing, saw nothing but her tempting soldi. He reached into her apron for funds with which to make another play. Pappina looked up, surprised, but said nothing.
The second time she jumped quickly to her feet, her eyes and cheeks aflame. The third time she gave him a vigorous slap.
"Let my money alone! You're a mean, horrid boy!"
The boys laughed loudly, then took up the game, shouting as before, "Uno, quattro, tre [One, four, three]," etc. So boisterous were they that Pappina began to cry. The necklace was forgotten.
"I'm so hungry, Filippo, and I'm tired, too. Take me home." He made no move. "Don't you hear me? I want to go home at once, Filippo," and she stamped her little foot imperiously.
The game thus interrupted, the boys arose and moved on.