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Updated: July 20, 2025
"I beg you not, signorini. The uncle is a good man, and brave. I do not wish him to be injured." "Nor do we, Tato." "And the young man is not a coward, either. He has been kind to me. But he is sad, and not so pleasant to talk with as the uncle." "True enough, Tato," said Beth. Patsy had been examining the child with curious intentness.
Mariano, the Tato, and a verger who also lived in the cloister, were those who most frequently met Gabriel, seated on the shoemaker's ragged and broken chairs, so low that one could touch the floor of red and dusty bricks with one's hands.
"Any time, my dear, is good enough for an overworked artist," he replied. "Au revoir, my cousins. See you at luncheon." With this he strolled away, and when he had gone Beth said to Tato: "Won't you sit down, signorina?" "Do you mean me?" asked the child, as if surprised. "Yes; I can see plainly that you are a girl." "And a pretty one, too, my dear," added Patsy.
If you are indiscreet, you alone will become the murderers of Signor Merrick and the sad young Ferralti." "Who are you?" asked Beth, examining the child closely. "I am called Tato, signorina mia." "Where do you live?" "It is all explained in the letters, believe me."
I think I forgot the Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon as I had eaten that fungus. Cavor replied to my third repetition of my "surplus population" remark with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put this down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. "Ess'lent discov'ry yours, Cavor," said I. "Se'nd on'y to the 'tato."
And there's a bit of deception required that I couldn't manage. That clever little thing, Tato, would know at once I was up to some mischief; but she would never suspect you." "I like that compliment," replied Patricia. "I may deserve it, of course; but it strikes me Louise is the one best fitted for such work." "We can't let Louise into this plot," said the boy, positively; "she'd spoil it all."
Poe Tato-Bug looked eagerly, and sure enough, there was Farmer Hayseed with a big box marked "Paris Green" in one hand, and in the other a sieve through which he was sifting fine white powder. "Dear me!" sighed Mrs. Poe Tato-Bug, "this is such a relief. Here we are." At once she began scurrying around over every leaf of her home, but not a sign of little Poe and Tato could she find.
Even in Sicily, where the Greek type of beauty to-day exists more perfectly than in Helene, there were few to compare with Tato, and it was only natural that the Americans should be very proud of her. Kenneth was sketching a bit of the quarry and the old monastery beyond it, with the blue sea glimmering in the distance.
I am aware that I ask too much; but the Signorina Patsy has said to my child that they would always be friends, whatever might happen, and as I know you to be generous I have dared to come to you with this request. I only ask your friendship for my Tato, who is innocent. For myself, after I have become a good man, then perhaps you will forgive me, too."
Then he took courage to look again, and observed the house, on the porch of which stood Tato engaged in earnest conversation with a tall, dark Sicilian. Uncle John was nowhere to be seen, but the boy understood that he was there, nevertheless, and realized that his prison was so secure that escape was impossible. And now he climbed down again, a much more difficult feat than getting up.
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