Beppi's small mind returned to the subject at hand.
"Then if it isn't that, what is it you want me to do?" he inquired, and continued without giving his sister time to reply. "It's to take care of them, I suppose," he grumbled, pointing a browned berry-stained little finger at a herd of goats that were grazing contentedly a little farther down the slope.
"Yes, that's it, and good care of them too," Lucia replied. "You are not to go to sleep again, remember, and be sure and watch Garibaldi, or she will stray away and get lost."
"And a good riddance too," Beppi commented under his breath.
He did not share in the general admiration for the "Illustrious and Gentile Señora Garibaldi," the favorite goat of his sister's herd. Perhaps the vivid recollection of Garibaldi's hard head may have accounted for his aversion. Lucia heard his remark and was quick to defend her pet.
"Aren't you ashamed to speak so?" she exclaimed, "I've a good mind not to give you the candy after all."
"Oh, Lucia, please, please!" Beppi begged. "I will take such good care of them, I promise, and if you like, I will pick the tenderest grass for old crosspatch," he added grudgingly.
Lucia smiled in triumph, and from the pocket of her dress she pulled out a small pink paper bag.
"Here you are then," she said; "and I won't be away very long. I am just going to see Maria for a few minutes."
Beppi caught the bag as she tossed it, and lingered over the opening of it. He wanted to prolong his pleasure as long as possible. Candy in war times was a treat and one that the Rudinis seldom indulged in.