FullReads

“Guess I do!”

“I think I shall like you; so I’ll bring it when I come. Do you ache much?”

“Awfully, sometimes. Have to lay down all day, and can’t do a thing.”

“Do you cry?”

“No! I’m too big for that. I whistle.”

“I know I shall like you, because you are brave!” cried the impetuous voice, with its pretty accent; and then an orange came tumbling through the hole, as if the new acquaintance longed to do something to help the “ache.”

“Isn’t that a rouser! I do love ’em, but mother can’t afford ’em often.” And Johnny took one delicious taste on the spot.

“Then I shall give you many. We have loads at home, much finer than these. Ah, you should see our garden there!”

“Where do you live?” Johnny ventured to ask; for there was a homesick sound to the voice as it said those last words.

“In Rome. Here we only stay a year, while papa arranges his affairs; then we go back, and I am happy.”

“I should think you’d be happy in there. It looks real splendid to me, and I’ve been longing to see it ever since I could come out.”

“It’s a dull place to me. I like better to be where it’s always warm, and people are more beautiful than here. Are you beautiful?”

“What queer questions she does ask!” And poor Johnny was so perplexed he could only stammer, with a laugh,–

“I guess not. Boys don’t care for looks.”

“Peep, and let me see. I like pretty persons,” commanded the voice.

“Don’t she order round?” thought Johnny, as he obeyed. But he liked it, and showed such a smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay was pleased to say, after a long look at him,–

“No, you are not beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you look pleasant, so I don’t mind the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of your face. I think you are good. I am sorry for you, and I shall lend you a book to read when the pain comes.”

“I couldn’t wait for that if I had a book. I do love so to read!” And Johnny laughed out from sheer delight at the thought of a new book; for he seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and too helpless to enjoy the free libraries of the city.

“Then you shall have it now.” And there was another quick rush in the garden, followed by the appearance of a fat little book, slowly pushed through the hole in the wall.

“This is the only one that will pass. You will like Hans Andersen’s fairy tales, I know. Keep it as long as you please. I have many more.”

“You’re so good! I wish I had something for you,” said the boy, quite overcome by this sweet friendliness.

“Let me see one of your books. They will be new to me. I’m tired of all mine.”

Quick as a flash, off went the cover of the old boiler, and out came half- a-dozen of Johnny’s best works, to be crammed through the wall, with the earnest request,–

“Keep ’em all; they’re not good for much, but they’re the best I’ve got. I’ll do some prettier ones as soon as I can find more nice pictures and pieces.”

“They look very interesting. I thank you. I shall go and read them now, and then come and talk again. Addio, Giovanni.”

“Good-by, Miss.”

Thus ended the first interview of little Pyramus and Thisbe through the hole in the wall, while puss sat up above and played moonshine with her yellow eyes.

PART II.

After that day a new life began for Johnny, and he flourished like a poor little plant that has struggled out of some dark corner into the sunshine. All sorts of delightful things happened, and good times really seemed to have come. The mysterious papa made no objection to the liberties taken with his wall, being busy with his own affairs, and glad to have his little girl happy. Old Nanna, being more careful, came to see the new neighbors, and was disarmed at once by the affliction of the boy and the gentle manners of the mother. She brought all the curtains of the house for Mrs. Morris to do up, and in her pretty broken English praised Johnny’s gallery and library, promising to bring Fay to see him some day.