“Yes, partly,” said Rosetta. “It was partly my own fault, but not all. You know I went out to the carpenter’s yard, near the arsenal, where all the children are picking up chips and sticks so busily; and I was as busy as any of them, because I wanted to fill my basket soon; and then I thought I should sell my basketful directly in the little wood-market. As soon as I had filled my basket, and made up my faggot (which was not done, brother, till I was almost baked by the sun, for I was forced to wait by the carpenters for the bits of wood to make up my faggot)—I say, when it was all ready, and my basket full, I left it altogether in the yard.”
“That was not wise to leave it,” said Carlo.
“But I only left it for a few minutes, brother, and I could not think anybody would be so dishonest as to take it whilst I was away. I only just ran to tell a boy, who had picked up all these beautiful shells upon the sea-shore, and who wanted to sell them, that I should be glad to buy them from him, if he would only be so good as to keep them for me, for an hour or so, till I had carried my wood to market, and till I had sold it, and so had money to pay him for the shells.”
“Your heart was set mightily on these shells, Rosetta.”
“Yes; for I thought you and Francisco, brother, would like to have them for your nice grotto that you are making at Resina. That was the reason I was in such a hurry to get them. The boy who had them to sell was very good-natured; he poured them into my lap, and said I had such an honest face he would trust me, and that as he was in a great hurry, he could not wait an hour whilst I sold my wood; but that he was sure I would pay him in the evening, and he told me that he would call here this evening for the money. But now what shall I do, Carlo? I shall have no money to give him: I must give back his shells, and that’s a great pity.”
“But how happened it that you did not sell your wood?”
“Oh, I forgot; did not I tell you that? When I went for my basket, do you know it was empty, quite empty, not a chip left? Some dishonest person had carried it all off. Had not I reason to cry now, Carlo?’
“I’ll go this minute into the wood-market, and see if I can find your faggot. Won’t that be better than crying?” said her brother. “Should you know any one of your pieces of wood again if you were to see them?”
“Yes, one of them, I am sure, I should know again,” said Rosetta. “It had a notch at one end of it, where one of the carpenters cut it off from another piece of wood for me.”
“And is this piece of wood from which the carpenter cut it still to be seen?” said Francisco.