Phil, the Fiddler by Jr. Horatio Alger (ereader for comics .TXT) 📕

Though from motives of policy the grocer had permitted the boys to warm themselves by his fire, he felt only the more incensed against them on this account, and when Mr. Pomeroy had gone determined to get rid of them.

“Haven’t you got warm yet?” he asked. “I can’t have you in my way all day.”

“We will go,” said Phil. “Come, Giacomo.”

He did not thank the grocer, knowing how grudgingly permission had been given.

So they went out again into the chill air, but they had got thoroughly warmed, and were better able to bear it.

“Where shall we go, Filippo?” asked the younger boy.

“We will go back to New York. It is not so cold there.”

Giacomo unhesitatingly assented to whatever Phil proposed. He was not self-reliant, like our hero, but always liked to have someone to lean upon.

They made their way back to Fulton Ferry in a leisurely manner, stopping here and there to play; but it was a bad day for business. The cold was such that no one stopped to give them anything, except that one young man dropped ten cents in Phil’s hand as he hurried by, on his way home.

At length they reached the ferry. The passengers were not so many in number as usual. The cabin was so warm and comfortable that they remained on board for two or three trips, playing each time. In this way they obtained about thirty cents more. They would have remained longer, but that one of the deck hands asked, “How many times are you going across for two cents?” and this made them think it prudent to go.

When six o’clock came Giacomo asked Phil, who acted as treasurer, how much money they had.

“Two dollars,” answered Phil.

“That is only one dollar for each.”

“Yes, Giacomo.”

“Then we shall be beaten,” said the little boy, with a sigh.

“I am afraid so.”

“And get no supper.”

“Yes,” said Phil; “unless,” he added, “we get some supper now.”

“With this money?” asked Giacomo, startled at the boldness of the suggestion.

“Yes; we shall be beaten at any rate. It will be no worse for us if we get some supper.”

“Will you buy some bread?”

“No,” said Phil, daringly. “I am going to buy some meat.”

“What will the padrone say?”

“I shall not tell the padrone.”

“Do you think he will find out?”

“No. Besides, we ought to have some supper after walking about all day.”

Evidently Phil had begun to think, and the essential injustice of laboring without proper compensation had impressed his youthful mind. Giacomo was more timid. He had not advanced as far as Phil, nor was he as daring. But I have already said that he was guided in a great measure by Phil, and so it proved in this case.

Phil, having made up his mind, set about carrying his plan into execution. Only a block distant was a cheap restaurant, where plates of meat were supplied to a poor class of customers at ten cents per plate.

“Let us go in here,” he said.

Giacomo followed, but not without trepidation. He knew that what they were about to do would be a heinous crime in the eyes of the padrone. Even Phil had never ventured upon such direct rebellion before. But Mr. Pomeroy’s suggestion that he should run away was beginning to bear fruit in his mind. He had not come to that yet, but he might. Why should he not earn money for his own benefit, as well as for the padrone? True, he was bound to the latter by a legal contract entered into by his father, but Phil, without knowing much about law, had an indistinct idea that the contract was a one-sided one, and was wholly for the advantage of the other party. The tyrant is always in danger of losing his hold upon the victim when the latter begins to think.

They entered the restaurant, and sat down at a table.

The tables were greasy. The floor was strewed with sawdust. The waiters were dirty, and the entire establishment was neither neat