They seemed to be chilled to the very marrow of their bones, for they
hung round the stove in the kitchen as if they would never thaw out.
When grandmother Ruth set a warm supper before them, they ate like
starved animals and cast pathetic glances at the table to see whether
there was more food. Tears stood in grandmother's eyes as she
replenished their plates.
Little by little, with the aid of many signs and gestures, they managed
to tell us their story. A _padrone_ had brought them with nine other
boys from Naples to sell plaster images for him; we gathered that this
man, who lived in Portland, cast the images himself. The only English
words he had taught them were "ten cent," "twenty-five cent" and "fifty
cent"--the prices of the plaster casts.
A few days before, in spite of the bitterly cold weather, he had sent
them out with their wares and bidden them to call at every house until
they had sold their stock. Then they were to bring back the money they
had taken in. He had given a package of dry, black bread to each of them
and had told them to sleep at nights in barns.
Sales were few, and long after their bread was gone they had wandered
on, not daring to go back until they had sold all their wares.
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