"Who is there?" she asked.
I looked at her without answering; she stared back at me. Suddenly she began to tremble.
"Oh, Lord, is it my Remi!" she murmured.
I jumped up and caught her in my arms.
"Mamma!"
"My boy! my boy!" was all that she could say, as she laid her head on my shoulder.
Some minutes passed before we had controlled our emotion. I wiped away her tears.
"Why, how you've grown, my boy," she cried, holding me at arms' length, "you're so big and so strong! Oh, my Remi!"
A stifled snort reminded me that Mattia was under the bed. I called him. He crept out.
"This is Mattia," I said, "my brother."
"Oh, then you've found your parents?" she cried.
"No, he's my chum, but just like a brother. And this is Capi," I added, after she had greeted Mattia. "Come and salute your master's mother, Capitano."
Capi got on his hind paws and bowed gravely to Mother Barberin. She laughed heartily. Her tears had quite vanished. Mattia made me a sign to spring our surprise.
"Let's go and see how the garden looks," I said.
"I have kept your bit just as you arranged it," she said, "for I knew that some day you would come back."
"Did you get my Jerusalem artichokes?"
