'I am . . . Can . . . dle . . . wick . . .'
And having again closed his eyes he expired.
'Oh, poor Candlewick!' said Pinocchio in a low voice; and taking a handful of straw he dried a tear that was rolling down his face.
'Do you grieve for a donkey that cost you nothing?' said the gardener. 'What must it be to me who bought him for ready money?'
'I must tell you . . . he was my friend!'
'Your friend?'
'One of my schoolfellows! . . .'
'How?' shouted Giangio, laughing loudly. 'How? had you donkeys for schoolfellows? . . . I can imagine what wonderful studies you must have made! . . .'
The puppet, who felt much mortified at these words, did not answer; but taking his tumbler of milk still quite warm he returned to the hut.
And from that day for more than five months he continued to get up at daybreak every morning to go and turn the pumping machine, to earn the tumbler of milk that was of such benefit to his father in his bad state of health. Nor was he satisfied with this; for during the time that he had over he learnt to make hampers and baskets of rushes, and with the money he obtained by selling them he was able with great economy to provide for all the daily expenses. Amongst other things he constructed an
