Phil, the Fiddler Read online

  CHAPTER VII

  THE HOME OF THE BOYS

  It was a quarter-past eleven when Phil and Giacomo entered the shabbybrick house which they called home, for want of a better. From fifteento twenty of their companions had already arrived, and the padrone wasoccupied in receiving their several contributions. The apartment wasa mean one, miserably furnished, but seemed befitting the principaloccupant, whose dark face was marked by an expression of greed, andalternately showed satisfaction or disappointment as the contents of theboys' pockets were satisfactory or otherwise. Those who had done badlywere set apart for punishment.

  He looked up as the two boys entered.

  "Well, Filippo," he said, harshly, "how much have you got?"

  Phil handed over his earnings. They were up to the required limit, butthe padrone looked only half satisfied.

  "Is that all you have?" he asked, suspiciously.

  "It is all, signore."

  "You have not done well this afternoon, then. When I met you at twelveo'clock you had more than a dollar."

  "It was because a good signora gave me fifty cents."

  The padrone, still suspicious, plunging his hands into Phil's pockets,but in vain. He could not find another penny.

  "Take off your shoes and stockings," he said, still unsatisfied.

  Phil obediently removed his shoes and stockings, but no money was foundconcealed, as the padrone half suspected. Sometimes these poor boys,beset by a natural temptation, secrete a portion of their dailyearnings. Whenever they are detected, woe betide them. The padrone makesan example of them, inflicting a cruel punishment, in order to deterother boys from imitating them.

  Having discovered nothing, he took Phil's violin, and proceeded toGiacomo.

  "Now for you," he said.

  Giacomo handed over his money. The padrone was surprised in turn, buthis surprise was of a different nature. He had expected to find himdeficient, knowing that he was less enterprising than Phil. He was gladto get more money than he expected, but a little disappointed that hehad no good excuse for beating him; for he had one of those hard, cruelnatures that delight in inflicting pain and anguish upon others.

  "Take care that you do as well to-morrow," he said. "Go and get yoursupper."

  One of the larger boys was distributing bread and cheese to the hungryboys. Nearly all ate as if famished, plain and uninviting as was thesupper, for they had been many hours without food. But Phil, who, aswe know, had eaten a good supper at Mrs. Hoffman's, felt very littleappetite. He slyly gave his bread to one of the boys, who, on account ofthe small sum he brought home, had been sentenced to go without. But thesharp eyes of the padrone, which, despite his occupation, managed to seeall that was going on, detected this action, and he became suspiciousthat Phil had bought supper out of his earnings.

  "Why did you give your bread to Giuseppe?" he demanded.

  "Because I was not hungry," answered Phil.

  "Why were you not hungry? Did you buy some supper?"

  "No, signore."

  "Then you should be hungry."

  "A kind lady gave me some supper."

  "How did it happen?"

  "I knew her son. His name is Paolo. He asked me to go home with him.Then he gave me a good supper."

  "How long were you there? You might have been playing and brought mesome more money," said the padrone, who, with characteristic meanness,grudged the young fiddler time to eat the meal that cost him nothing.

  "It was not long, signore."

  "You can eat what is given you, but you must not waste too much time."

  A boy entered next, who showed by his hesitating manner that he didnot anticipate a good reception. The padrone, accustomed to judge byappearances, instantly divined this.

  "Well, Ludovico," he said, sharply, "what do you bring me?"

  "Pardon, padrone," said Ludovico, producing a small sum of money.

  "I could not help it."

  "Seventy-five cents," repeated the padrone, indignantly. "You have beenidle, you little wretch!"

  "No, padrone. Indeed, I did my best. The people would not give memoney."

  "Where did you go?"

  "I was in Brooklyn."

  "You have spent some of the money."

  "No, padrone."

  "You have been idle, then. No supper to-night. Pietro, my stick!"

  Pietro was one of the older boys. He was ugly physically, and hisdisposition corresponded with his appearance. He could have few goodtraits, or he would not have possessed the confidence of the padrone.He was an efficient assistant of the latter, and co-operated with him inoppressing the other boys. Indeed, he was a nephew of the padrone's,and for this reason, as well as his similarity of disposition, he wastreated with unusual indulgence. Whenever the padrone felt suspiciousof any of the boys, he usually sent them out in company with Pietro, whoacted as a spy, faithfully reporting all that happened to his principal.

  Pietro responded with alacrity to the command of the padrone, andproduced a stout stick, which he handed to his uncle.

  "Now strip off your jacket," said the padrone, harshly.

  "Spare me, padrone! Do not beat me! It was not my fault," said theunhappy Ludovico, imploringly.

  "Take off your jacket!" repeated the padrone, pitilessly.

  One look of that hard face might have taught Ludovico, even if he hadnot witnessed the punishment so often inflicted on other boys, thatthere was no hope for him.

  "Help him, Pietro," said the padrone.

  Pietro seized Ludovico's jacket, and pulled it off roughly. Then he drewoff the ragged shirt which the boy wore underneath, and his bare backwas exposed to view.

  "Hold him, Pietro!"

  In Pietro's firm grasp, the boy was unable to stir. The padrone whirledthe stick aloft, and brought it down upon the naked flesh, leavingbehind a fearful wheal.

  Ludovico shrieked aloud, and again implored mercy, but in vain, for thestick descended again and again.

  Meanwhile the other boys looked on, helpless to interfere. The moreselfish were glad that they had escaped, though not at all sure but itwould be their turn next evening. There were others who felt a passivesympathy for their unlucky comrade. Others were filled with indignationat the padrone, knowing how cruel and unjust were his exactions. Amongthese was Phil. Possessed of a warm and sympathetic heart, he neverwitnessed these cruel punishments without feeling that he would like tosee the padrone suffering such pain as he inflicted upon others.

  "If I were only a man," he often thought, "I would wrench the stick fromhis hand, and give him a chance to feel it."

  But he knew too well the danger of permitting his real sentiments to bereflected in his face. It would only bring upon him a share of the samepunishment, without benefiting those who were unfortunate enough toreceive it.

  When Ludovico's punishment was ended, he was permitted to go to bed,but without his supper. Nor was his the only case. Five other boys weresubjected to the same punishment. The stick had no want of exerciseon that evening. Here were nearly forty boys, subjected to excessivefatigue, privation, and brutal treatment daily, on account of the greedof one man. The hours that should been given in part to instruction, andpartly to such recreation as the youthful heart craves, were devoted toa pursuit that did nothing to prepare them for the duties of life. Andthis white slavery--for it merits no better name--is permitted by thelaw of two great nations. Italy is in fault in suffering this trafficin her children of tender years, and America is guilty as well in notinterfering, as she might, at all events, to abridge the long hours oflabor required of these boys, and forcing their cruel guardians to givethem some instruction.

  One by one the boys straggled in. By midnight all had returned, and theboys were permitted to retire to their beds, which were poor enough.This, however, was the least of their troubles. Sound are the slumbersof young however hard the couch on which it rests, especially when, aswith all the young Italian boys, the day has been one of fatigue.