"Perhaps he is waiting for you," Marta said to Pappina.
The child went toward Guiseppe, but as soon as she reached him he turned from her as though her presence annoyed him. Thinking to please him, she began to sing, but he raised his hand and silenced her.
"Stop!" he growled. "This is the place for the puppets, not you."
His bad temper showed even in the puppet performance. The little he received from the fishermen did not improve his mood. Without a word to any one he took up the Punchinellos and, muttering to himself, walked doggedly, on, passing without a stop through Majori, Minori and Altrani, angry at the whole beautiful world.
There were so many things to interest Pappina that she forgot Guiseppe's unkindness. The orange trees and lemon plantations were a beautiful picture that called forth constant exclamations of admiration and delight.
By–and–by, however, the money hurt her foot so severely that she could not enjoy anything. She was glad when the long tramp was over and they were at last at Amalfi.
Guiseppe threw himself down exhausted. Marta sat down beside him, and Pappina behind both. She wanted to take off her shoe and she was determined Guiseppe should not see the money. Her little foot was blistered from the rubbing of the coins.
"Oh, what shall I do with them? They hurt me so! He'll surely see them and take them from me if I don't put them back in my shoe." So she replaced them, ate her supper, went to sleep, and dreamed all night that she was walking on thistles.
The following morning, Guiseppe did not seem at all inclined to move on. Neither Marta nor Pappina cared to speak to him, nor he to them. Along in the afternoon, the silence began to be distressing to Pappina.
"What do you suppose he is going to do?" she asked Marta. "I won't ask him; he's so cross I won't speak to him."