father. "We're not rich and we all work. In the summer we travel through the country and the children go and sell the goods to those who won't take the trouble to come to us, but in the winter we haven't much to do. Now you and Remi can go and play music in the streets. You'll make quite a little money as Christmas draws near, but Ned and Allen must take Capi with them and he'll make the people laugh with his tricks; in that way the talent will be distributed."
"Capi won't work well with any one but me," I said quickly. I could not bear to be parted from my dog.
"He'll learn to work with Allen and Ned easy," said my father; "we'll get more money this way."
"Oh, but we'll get ever so much more with Capi," I insisted.
"That's enough," replied my father briefly; "when I say a thing I mean it. No arguments."
I said nothing more. As I laid down in my bed that night Mattia whispered in my ear: "Now to-morrow you write to Mother Barberin." Then he jumped into bed.
But the next morning I had to give Capi his lesson, I took him in my arms and while I gently kissed him on his cold nose, I explained to him what he had to do; poor doggy! how he looked at me, how he listened! I then put his leash in Allen's hand and he followed the two boys obediently, but with a forlorn air.
My father took Mattia and me across London
