Only now and then a woman passed, with an earthen jar of water on her head and her little tin bucket and rope in her hand.

The public well is not fifty yards from Antonino's house, up the brook and on the left of it.

The breeze was dying away and it was very hot, though the sun was already behind the high rocks of the cape.
"Where are the beasts ?" asked Don Antonino, as the boys swallowed their last mouthful.
Ruggiero threw his head back and stuck out his chin, which signifies negation in the south.

He knew it was of little use to speak unless he could get near the old man's ear and shout.
"And what are you doing here ?" asked the latter.
Speech was now unavoidable.

Ruggiero stood on tiptoe and the old man bent over sideways, much as a heavily laden Dutch galliot heels to a stiff breeze.
"The mother is dead!" bawled the boy in his high strong voice.
Oddly enough the tears came into his eyes for the first time, as he shouted at the deaf old man, and at the same moment little Sebastiano's lower lip trembled.