Zirlo, who had sent his goats farther away, strayed back and stood looking at old Cecco, the mule.
'He is of no use to you?' he said timidly.
'No use; no.'
'Would you not sell him?' he said more timidly too, thinking of the sensale.
'T would not sell him.'
'You would get money for him—much money———'
'I do not want money.'
'But you want to eat.'
'I get enough to do that.'
' He is old———'
'The more reason to keep him by me; old things fare ill with strangers.'
Zirlo eyed the mule wistfully, and went away a little sulky and a good deal afraid.
'What will you do in the winter?' he said fretfully. 'I cannot leave the goats to run your errands in the winter. Sometimes it snows, too, and I am always very busy. You must go up and live in San Lionardo; that is what you must do.'
'I shall not do that,' said Musa; 'I shall live where I am. You will do my errands
