They had passed the Catania Gate and reached the foot of one of the mountain paths.  Tato paused, hesitatingly.

“Oh, I’ll go a little farther,” said Patsy, promptly.  “No one will notice two girls, you know.  Shall I carry your parcel for a time?”

“No,” replied the child, hugging it close with her disengaged arm.  But she offered no objection when Patsy continued to walk by her side.

“Have you any brothers or sisters, Tato?”

“No, signorina.”

“Have you a mother?”

“No, signorina.  My father and I are alone.”

“I know him well, Tato.  We were on the ship together, crossing the ocean.  He was gruff and disagreeable, but I made him talk to me and smile.”

“I know; he has told me of the Signorina Patsy.  He is fond of you.”

“Yet he robbed my uncle.”

The child flushed, and drew away her arm.

“That is it.  That is why you should hate me,” she replied, bitterly.  “I know it is robbery, and brigandage, although my father masks it by saying he sells antiques.  Until now I have seen nothing wrong in this life, signorina; but you have made me ashamed.”

“Why, dear?”

“Because you are so good and gentle, and so forgiving.”

Patsy laughed.

“In reality, Tato, I am resentful and unforgiving.  You will find out, soon, that I am a very human girl, and then I will not make you ashamed.  But your father’s business is shameful, nevertheless.”

Tato was plainly puzzled, and knew not what to reply.  But just then they reached the end of the crevasse, and the child said: 

“You must return now, Signorina Patsy.”

“But why cannot I go on with you, and come back with my uncle?”

Tato hesitated.  Accustomed as she was to duplicity and acting, in her capacity as lure for her thieving father, the child was just now softened by Patsy’s kindly manner and the successful accomplishment of her mission.  She had no thought of any treachery or deception on the part of the American girl, and the request seemed to her natural enough.

“If you like,” she decided, “you may come as far as the barrier, and there wait for your uncle.  It will not be long.”

“Very well, dear.”

Tato clambered over the dividing rock and dropped into the path beyond.  Patsy sprang lightly after her.  A short distance farther and they reached the barrier.

“This is the place, signorina.  You will sit upon that stone, and wait until your uncle appears.”  She hesitated, and then added, softly:  “I may not see you again.  But you will not forget me?”

“Never, Tato.  And if you come to America you must not forget to visit me.  Remember, whatever happens, that we are friends, and must always remain so.”

The child nodded, gratefully.  Then, leaning against the face of the cliff, she raised her voice and warbled clearly the bit of song that served as the signal to her father.