"Why--hello, Tony!" he exclaimed, "what's wrong now?"
"My lil Pietro," cried the Italian excitedly, "he no sleep--he burn-a
burn-a all-a da time,--all-a da time cry! You tell-a you sis--she come-a
like-a da las' time den he no cry-a--" But here Tony broke off to
flourish his hat and bow gracefully as he caught sight of Hermione
herself. "Ah, Signorina!" he cried, "my lil Pietro he seeck. You
please-a come see my lil Pietro? He flush-a he cry--he all-a da fire! he
burn-a, burn-a, like-a da fire! You so good, so generosa--you come see
my lil Pietro?"
"Why, of course I will!" said Hermione in her calm, soft voice, "poor
little mite--is he feverish?"
"Si, si Signorina!" answered the anxious young father, "he burn-a,
burn-a all-a da time!"
"Reach me the aconite, boy dear; yes, that's it."
"But what about supper, Hermy?" queried Spike wistfully.
"Oh, well--finish laying the table; I'll be back as soon as ever I can,
dear."
"Oh, Gee!" sighed Spike, as their footsteps died away down the stair,
"she sure is keen on knowing how I met Geoff! And if she ever finds
out--" Spike cowered down into a chair and clasping his head between his
hands sat thus a long while, staring moodily at the floor, striving for
a way out of the difficulty.
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