It is only because you are sick that you think of it.

You will soon be better." "I do not think so, Filippo.

I should like to live for one thing." "What is that ?" asked Phil, gazing with strange wonder at the patient, sad face of the little sufferer, who seemed so ready to part with the life which, in spite of his privations and hardships, seemed so bright to him.
"I should like to go back to my home in Italy, and see my mother again before I die.

She loved me." The almost unconscious emphasis which he laid on the word "she" showed that in his own mind he was comparing her with his father, who had sold him into such cruel slavery.
"If you live, Giacomo, you will go back and see her some day." "I shall never see her again, Filippo," said the little boy, sadly.

"If you ever go back to Italy--when you are older--will you go and see her, and tell her that--that I thought of her when I was sick, and wanted to see her ?" "Yes, Giacomo," said Phil, affected by his little companion's manner.
"Filippo!" called Pietro, in harsh tones.
"I must go," said Phil, starting to his feet.
"Kiss me before you go," said Giacomo.
Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the little boy, and then hurried out of the room.