New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1921-07-17

WA
4 WM the winter. She always started with
green peppers. Sometimes they
were plain and sometimes there evolved from
them wonderful concoctions. in which they were
almost completely disguised. One could never
tell how they would come out, but they always
began in the same way. First they were pulled
off the string which hung over the kitchen
stove and then soaked and sliced
This particular afternoon Mrs. Mezetti was
sitting by the stove slcing the peppers. Little
Mickey was trottng around beside her, reading
great imaginary story out of an old torn
paper.
1t was rambling, never-cnding story, told
in his baby Italian, about his little dog Tito,
favorite product of his imagination Every
few seconds he paused for another idea and
looked up to make sure his mother was pay
ing proper attention to him. If she nodded
and smiled, as she usually did, he would go on
to the next episode in the miraculous Tito's
several rcincarnations, his black eyes shining
and his short curls bobbng as he told about
his wonderful pet dog.
But if she weren't noticing him particularly,
as was the case this time, he would come over
to her and raise his adorable little face and
ask, what is the matter, mammina"
"Not one thing my little pigeon,"-she spoke
perfect, rich Italian-"only, Mickey, you speak
such noble Italian. You'll always talk to your
mother in Italian, won't you?"
"Ah, yes, mammina. Oh here come Katina
and JOSIE
He ran to the door to let in two little girls,
the younger about nine and the older twelve.
They were thin and rather plain looking, but
had lovely eyes and hair. Their mother turned
to them, and they greeted her with few words
in Italian and then went into their parlor with
their books, chatting together in the English
which they were taught at school.
Mrs. Mezetti followed them into the front
room and timidly asked Katherine, the young
er, what she had learned in school that day.
Katherine began to answer in English, ooh, we
painted pictures of'-and then remembering,
finished in Italian-"a vase and some dishes.
You wouldn't understand"
with sigh Mrs. Mezetti turned and went
back to the kitchen, and as she put the frying
pan on the stove her eyes were dangerously
full of tears
Josephine was playing the player piano in
the front room and dolefully singing "Dar-
danela," while Katherine and Mickey began to
chase each other around the house.
Mrs. Mezetti stole shy look into the books
the girls had brought home from school. In
Katherine's reader she could make out few
words, but not enough to read single whole
sentence Oh, how she loathed those figures
that meant something that her children could
understand and she couldn't! This horrible
language was siren, wooing them away from
her, and try as she would she could not hold
them back from it's fascination. She shud-
dered, closed the book and went back to her
supper.
She put the sliced peppers in the hot fat
and they began to sizzle At that Mickey came
running to her and asked to be allowed to set
the table. "Si Mike. Katherine, you help
him"
The table, covered with white oilcloth, stood
in the middle of the kitchen. The children set
it with the scanty, poor dishes the little home
possessed. There was the big ring Of Italian
bread to be broken off in chunks, goats milk
and the sizzling contests Of the frying pan,
which now had eggs scrambled in it with the
peppers.
When things were almost ready the door
opened and lovely young girl came in. She
was dressed plainly, and her dress and hair