"Carissima mia," she would cry, "will not de monees pour into dese little brown hand as one riv-are?"
And so it proved. Little Pepita, in her mob-cap, was fondled and patted by the women, and run after by the children, who were delighted to leave their pennies in her chubby fist, so that Teresa's tin cup was filled to overflowing; and one day Pietro sold his old barrel-organ, and bought a brand-new one.
To say there was contentment in the Popolo apartments that evening would but faintly express it. Uncle Luigi and some neighbors were invited to participate in the rejoicing. It lessened not the pleasure of the party one whit that the rooms smelled strongly of fried fish and garlic; on the contrary, it increased it by anticipation, for Teresa was famous for her cookery.
Supper, however, was a secondary consideration. The new organ must be looked at first, and Teresa lighted an extra lamp for the occasion, and was made very happy by the praises bestowed upon the new instrument.
Now that Teresa had baby to carry, her tambourine lay idle. This and their prosperity set her to thinking, and the result was a letter to her cousins Andrea and Luisa Felippo, which bade them "come to America, where the people were so fond of music that one might fairly whistle the money out of their pockets."
The Felippos came, Andrea bringing with him his flageolet, and Luisa a small sum of money with which to set up housekeeping in the New World. Nor were they an unwelcome or undesirable addition to the little troupe of musicians. Andrea, with his gold ear-rings, conical hat, and velvet trousers, and Luisa, with her picturesque peasant dress, became paying attractions. They were not announced by flaming handbills, nor were they trumpeted forth in the newspapers like Ole Bull or Wilhelmj, or Patti or Nilsson, but they soon acquired a wide-spread fame of their own on the east side—a fame some day to be increased fourfold by an event, the realization of a secret hope in the breasts of Pietro and Teresa Popolo.
In a certain side street of the city was a curious old shop, in which was stored all sorts of second-hand musical instruments. Now Pietro was of an inventive turn, and possessed considerable mechanical skill.
No one knew but the good wife Teresa where he spent so many evenings, while she sat at home singing and rocking the cradle.
Andrea and Luisa would drop in for a chat. Neighbor Giuseppe frequently inquired for her husband, and to all she would say, smilingly, "Wait; you not know dis night."
Meantime the object of their solicitude was busy with his awl and his knife, and a lot of buckles and straps, preparing the wonderful invention that was to delight the people, and pour in money for the little Pepita's dowry.