and deaf but he still has good eyesight. From the cushion which he occupies he has recognized the harp and up he comes, limping, for "the Performance." In his jaws he holds a saucer; he wants to make the rounds of the "distinguished audience." He tries to walk on his two hind paws, but strength fails him, so he sits down gravely and with his paw on his heart he bows to the society.
Our song ended, Capi gets up as best he can and "makes the round." Each one drops something into the saucer and Capi delightedly brings it to me. It is the best collection he has ever made. There are only gold and silver coins—170 francs.
I kiss him on his cold nose as in other days, and the thought of the miseries of my childhood gives me an idea. I tell my guests that this sum shall be the first subscription to found a Home for little street musicians. My mother and I will donate the rest.
"Dear Madam," said Mattia, bending over my mother's hand, "let me have a little share in this good work. The proceeds of my first concert in London will be added to Capi's collection."
And Capi barked approval.
The End
