“Are you ill? where do you live? have you been here all day?” were some of the questionsasked by the old man. After hearing his answers， the old man took him home to a small houseclose by， in a back street. They entered a glovemaker's shop， where a woman sat sewingbusily. A little white poodle， so closely shaven that his pink skin could plainly be seen， friskedabout the room， and gambolled upon the boy.
“Innocent souls are soon intimate，” said the woman， as she caressed both the boy andthe dog. These good people gave the child food and drink， and said he should stay with themall night， and that the next day the old man， who was called Giuseppe， would go and speakto his mother. A little homely bed was prepared for him， but to him who had so often slept onthe hard stones it was a royal couch， and he slept sweetly and dreamed of the splendidpictures and of the Metal Pig. Giuseppe went out the next morning， and the poor child was notglad to see him go， for he knew that the old man was gone to his mother， and that，perhaps， he would have to go back. He wept at the thought， and then he played with thelittle， lively dog， and kissed it， while the old woman looked kindly at him to encourage him.And what news did Giuseppe bring back? At first the boy could not hear， for he talked aGREat deal to his wife， and she nodded and stroked the boy's cheek.
then she said， “He is a good lad， he shall stay with us， he may become a cleverglovemaker， like you. Look what delicate fingers he has got; Madonna intended him for aglovemaker.” So the boy stayed with them， and the woman herself taught him to sew; andhe ate well， and slept well， and became very merry. But at last he began to tease Bellissima，as the little dog was called. This made the woman angry， and she scolded him and threatenedhim， which made him very unhappy， and he went and sat in his own room full of sadthoughts. This chamber looked upon the street， in which hung skins to dry， and there werethick iron bars across his window. That night he lay awake， thinking of the Metal Pig; indeed，it was always in his thoughts. Suddenly he fancied he heard feet outside going pit-a-pat. Hesprung out of bed and went to the window. Could it be the Metal Pig? But there was nothing tobe seen; whatever he had heard had passed already. Next morning， their neighbor， theartist， passed by， carrying a paint-box and a large roll of canvas.
“Help the gentleman to carry his box of colors，” said the woman to the boy; and heobeyed instantly， took the box， and followed the painter. They walked on till they reached thepicture gallery， and mounted the same staircase up which he had ridden that night on theMetal Pig. He remembered all the statues and pictures， the beautiful marble Venus， and againhe looked at the Madonna with the Saviour and St. John. They stopped before the picture byBronzino， in which Christ is represented as standing in the lower world， with the childrensmiling before Him， in the sweet expectation of entering heaven; and the poor boy smiled，too， for here was his heaven.
“You may go home now，” said the painter， while the boy stood watching him， till he hadset up his easel.
“May I see you paint?” asked the boy; “may I see you put the picture on this whitecanvas?”
“I am not going to paint yet，” replied the artist; then he brought out a piece of chalk. Hishand moved quickly， and his eye measured the GREat picture; and though nothing appearedbut a faint line， the figure of the Saviour was as clearly visible as in the colored picture.
“Why don't you go?” said the painter. Then the boy wandered home silently， and seatedhimself on the table， and learned to sew gloves. But all day long his thoughts were in thepicture gallery; and so he pricked his fingers and was awkward. But he did not teaseBellissima. When evening came， and the house door stood open， he slipped out. It was abright， beautiful， starlight evening， but rather cold. Away he went through the already-deserted streets， and soon came to the Metal Pig; he stooped down and kissed its shiningnose， and then seated himself on its back.
“You happy creature，” he said; “how I have longed for you! we must take a ride to-night.”
But the Metal Pig lay motionless， while the fresh stream gushed forth from its mouth.The little boy still sat astride on its back， when he felt something pulling at his clothes. Helooked down， and there was Bellissima， little smooth-shaven Bellissima， barking as if shewould have said， “Here I am too; why are you sitting there?”
A fiery dragon could not have frightened the little boy so much as did the little dog in thisplace. “Bellissima in the street， and not dressed!” as the old lady called it; “what would bethe end of this?”
the dog never went out in winter， unless shewas attired in a little lambskin coat which had beenmade for her; it was fastened round the little dog'sneck and body with red ribbons， and was decoratedwith rosettes and little bells. The dog looked almostlike a little kid when she was allowed to go out inwinter， and trot after her mistress. And now hereshe was in the cold， and not dressed. Oh， howwould it end? All his fancies were quickly put toflight; yet he kissed the Metal Pig once more， andthen took Bellissima in his arms. The poor little thingtrembled so with cold， that the boy ran homeward as fast as he could.
“What are you running away with there?” asked two of the police whom he met， and atwhom the dog barked. “Where have you stolen that pretty dog?” they asked; and they tookit away from him.
“Oh， I have not stolen it; do give it to me back again，” cried the boy， despairingly.