But many times he got nothing for his music, and then he was very sad;
for he lived with a cruel master, who always beat him when he came home
at night without a good round sum.
One day last spring, he had worked very hard; but people were so busy
moving, or cleaning house, that, when night came, he had very little
money. He felt very tired: so he went home with what he had.
But his cruel master, without stopping to hear a word from the little
fellow, gave him a whipping, and sent him out again. He came to my gate,
long after I had gone to bed, and played and sang two or three songs;
but he did not sing very well, for he was too tired and sleepy.
Just across the street, in an unfinished building, the carpenters had
left a large pile of shavings. Pedro saw this by the moonlight, as he
went along; and he thought he would step in and lie down to rest. His
head had hardly touched the pillow of shavings before he was asleep.
He dreamed about his pleasant home far away in Italy. He thought he was
with his little sisters, and he saw his dear mother smile as she gave
him his supper; but, just as he was going to eat, some sudden noise
awoke him.
He was frightened to find it was daylight, and that the sun was high in
the sky. In the doorway stood a kind gentleman looking at him. Pedro
sprang up, and took his fiddle; but the gentleman stopped him as he was
going out, and asked if that pile of shavings was all the bed he had.
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