There was no room for Gigi in the loft where the family slept.  But out in the stable, beside the oxen, was a fresh pile of straw, a fine bed for the tired little wanderer.  When Mother Margherita had bidden him a kind good-night and had closed the stable door behind her, Gigi threw himself upon the straw and was almost Instantly asleep.  The oxen breathed gently beside him, chewing their cud.  Everything was still and peaceful.  And the night passed.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” crowed the first cock, speaking the same tongue that he learned at the beginning of the world, and that he always uses in every land, among every people.

It was but a few moments later when Gigi was awakened suddenly by a touch on his shoulder.  The boy opened his eyes and stared about, bewildered.  He did not know where he was.  Who was this bending over him in the dim light?  Not Tonio; not Cecco; not the Giant?  Then he recognized Mother Margherita, stooping low with a pitiful expression on her face.  She had a little bundle in her hand.

“Get up, Gigi,” she whispered.  “You must be off.  My man is so angry!  He vows he will take you to the village to-day and give you up to your masters.  He thinks you are a thief, Gigi.  But I do not believe that you stole the silver piece.”

“The silver piece!” cried Gigi, still more bewildered.

“Sh!” cautioned the woman, laying a hand on his lips.  “Giuseppe must not know that I am here.  He sleeps still.  When we counted the money in the bag we found it short by one piece of silver, besides the one I gave you.  That was my own to do with as I chose.  But he believes that you stole another when you were holding the bag for me, hiding under my skirts.”

“I did not take it!” cried Gigi, wide-awake now.  “Oh, I would not steal from you,—­not from you, the only person who was ever kind to me!”

“There, there!  I told him so!” said the good woman soothingly.  “I told him I must have lost it at the market when I was making change for somebody.  But he will not believe.  You must be off, Gigi, before he wakes, or you will have to go back to those cruel fellows.  Giuseppe is so set!  Like a mule he is when he is angry!”

Gigi sprang to his feet and looked wildly around.  “Where shall I go?  What shall I do?” he asked.

Mother Margherita looked at the pale little lad and her eyes filled.  “Poor little fellow!” she sighed.  “Suppose you were one of my boys, Beppo or Paolo!  But we must lose no time”; and she dashed the tears from her eyes.  “Here is your cloak to hide that gaudy dress.  And here is a bundle of food,—­all I could spare without the good man’s knowledge.  For it must seem that you have run away of your own accord.  I know that will make him sure that you are a thief.  But I dare not let him guess that I have warned you and helped you to escape.  You do not know Giuseppe’s anger!—­Farewell, dear little lad, and may the Saints have you in their keeping.”