except an aunt, would have cast an evil eye on her, the poor little orphan!
"If you asked curátolo Nino for his third daughter, it would make things all right, both for the orphan and for the dowry," suggested la Licodiana.
"That's what I say. But don't speak of it to me, for now my mouth is bitter as gall."
"I wouldn't talk about it now," said comare Sidora. "Eat a bit of something, compare Meno. You are all tired out."
"No! no!" returned compare Meno several times. "Don't speak to me of eating, for I have a lump in my throat."
Comare Sidora placed before him on a stool fresh bread with ripe olives, a piece of sheep's-head cheese, and a jug of wine. And the poor clumsy fellow set to work nibbling at it, all the time grumbling, with a long face.
"Such bread as she made," he observed with a quaver in his voice, "no one else could ever make. Just as if it were made
