Part 1 (1/2)

Little Tony of Italy.

by Madeline Brandeis.

PREFACE

When I began to write these stories about children of all lands I had just returned from Europe whither I journeyed with Marie and Ref. Maybe you don't know Marie and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie, my very little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.

These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little girl who knows what other little girls like and by telling me; and Ref helps by snapping pictures of everything interesting that Marie and I see on our travels.

I couldn't get along without them.

Several years have gone by since we started our work together and Marie is a bigger girl--but Ref hasn't changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed any more than my interest in writing these books for you. And I hope that _you_ hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on writing until we'll have no more countries to write about--unless, of course, some one discovers a new country.

Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign children to talk about--maybe the children in Mars! Who knows? n.o.body. Not even Marie--and Marie usually knows about most things. That's the reason why, you see, though I sign myself

[Signature: Madeline Brandeis]

I am really only Marie's Mother.

CHAPTER I

TONY AND TINA

It was love at first sight.

It happened as Tony was sauntering along a noisy street in Naples. One of the noisiest, oldest, and dirtiest streets.

Cries, songs, laughter, scoldings filled the air. And smells! But not the smell of roses.

Tony's brown hands were stuffed in his ragged pockets. A never-mind whistle was on his saucy lips.

But suddenly he stopped. He planted his legs apart and stared. There, on the steps of a church, she sat. Her beautiful, pitiful brown eyes looked up at Tony.

She had a bewitching face. It was a white face; thin and rather sad.

”Hungry?” asked Tony.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ON A STREET IN NAPLES]

Then, without waiting for a reply, he added, ”Come along. I'll buy you something to eat.”

He jingled coins in his pockets. His mouth curved at the corners. He had black eyes and they gleamed.

They started off together, when, all at once, she stopped and would go no farther.

”Come,” urged Tony. ”Don't be afraid. I have money. See? I begged it of the Americans at the big hotel.”

He drew the coins from his pocket and showed them to her. But she only stood and gazed at him with those mournful, brown eyes. Tony's black ones snapped.