Retold by Lee Wyndham
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| Near the city of Palermo, in Italy, there once lived a widow named Mama Teresa. She had a only son - a foolish one - named Beppe. Of course she loved him, for she was his mother, yet time and again he tried her patience.
There was the day when went to market and left him at home with a setting hen. "Keep your eyes on the hen," she told Beppe. "Do not let her get off the nest. If the eggs get cold, the chicks will not hatch and we shall have neither eggs nor chicken to eat."
"I shall do exactly what you say," Beppe assured her.
And he did. He sat in front of the hen and stared at her. This the hen did not like. First she clucked uneasily. Then she ruffled her feathers. Finally, with a great squawking and flapping, she rose from the nest and flew over Bepped's head. As he tumbled backward, He grabbed at her tail feathers. The frightened hen flopped out into the yard and soon vanished down the road.
"Wicked hen," Bepped shouted after her. "If you will not set on your eggs, I will do it for you."
And he did. And of course every single egg was squashed.
When Mama Teresa returned, she was furious. But when Beppe explained how he had kept his eyes on the hen and all else that had happened, she threw up her hands. "Enough, enough! Tell me no more. Change your clothes and go out to play."
Some time after this, the widow sent Beppe to market with a basket of choice grapes from her vines. "Be sure to get a fair price for theme," she cautioned.
The first man Beppe met in the market has this, that, and the other thing to say about the grapes - and it was all bad.
Hearing this complaints, Beppe was so glad to get rid of the grapes that he sold them to the man for practically nothing. When he brought few coins at home, his mother cried out in dismay. "A whole basket of grapes - stolen from under your foolish nose. All that man had to do was open his mouth, and with the first word you agreed that our grapes were worthless."
"No, no, Mama. That was not the way at all," answered Beppe. "The man said the grapes were worthless a great many time."
Mama Teresa smacked Beppe soundly, and then she was sorry and kissed him, for he had no sense and could not help being foolish.
Still, she could not allow him to play all day. One morning she said, "Beppe, here is a piece of pine linen I have maid that should bring at least five pieces of silver. Go into Palermo and find a buyer for it. And this time do not listen to anyone who tries to talk your head off."
"That I won't," Beppe promised.
In the bustling city Beppe pushed his way through the crowds, shouting, "Fine linen for sale!"
Presently a man stopped hi. "My wife would like to see that piece of cloth," he said. "Go to--"
"Stop!" Beppe cried. "Do not think that you can take my head off ," and he hurried away.
Next a lady sid, "What do you want for this fine cloth?
"Never you mind," Beppe told her rudely. "I'll not let you talk me out of it either. My mother warned me against people like you."
Well please with him self, Beppe turned away every buyer who so much as uttered a word. At the end of the day the cloth was unsold, and Beppe was weary of tramping up and down the cobbled streets.
Dusk had fallen when he came to courtyard with a stone bench and a pale-faced man, dressed all in white, standing near it.
"May I sit here and rest, sir?" Beppe ask the man. The man did not speak, but Beppe thought that he nodded. "Thank you," Beppe said and sank down gratefully. The man did not go away, so Beppe help up the linen for him to see. "It is very fine cloth," he said, "made by my mother. Would you care to buy it?"
Still the gentleman in white said nothing.
Beppe's heart rose. He was one who would not talk him into a bad bargain. "I will sell it to you for five silver pieces," he said, and again thought the gentleman nodded. Beppe jumped up from the bench, draped the linen over the arms of the gentleman, and wait to be paid.
"Five silver pieces, sir," Beppe reminded him. There was no response. "My money," Bepped said loudly. The man said nothing. "If will not pay, I will take back my cloth." Beep gave the linen a tug. It caught on the man's finger and started to rip.
"See what you have done!" Beppe yelled. "Pay up or give me the cloth at once!"
Still the man said nothing and held on the linen. Beppe snatched a stick from the ground. "Let go of my linen," he shouted, "or I shall make you let go!" and he gave a man a whack on the arm with the stick.
 CRRA-AAACK! The man's arm fell off and shattered into a thousand white pieces. "Ai!" Bepped covered his eyes and peered through his fingers. The white gentleman stood as before, except that now he had no arms. Nor did he show any signs of pain. Beppe took a step closer to him - and discovered his secret. "Fie on you for deceiving me.You are not a man but a plaster statue," Beppe exclaimed "I'm glad I've got even with you, for now you have no arms with which to play sticks." At that moment a widow was flung open at the back of the courtyard, and a woman called out, "Who is that near my statue?" "It is I," shouted Beppe. "Your wicked statue tried to rob-" "A robber!" the woman screamed. "Help! Police!" "You don't understand!" Beppe tried to outshout her. It was no use. The woman kept screeching for the police. The police might not understand either. Beppe scooped up his linen and took his heels. As he slid around the corner, Beppe came to a church and slipped inside. He was dreadfully tired. So he climbed up on a marble ledge, wrapped himself in the white linen, and fell asleep. Hushed voices and the click on metal awakened him. In the dim light of the candle, Bepped saw two men crouched over a pile of coins that they were dividing between them. "This was a good night's work," said one to the other. "One for you --and one for me. One for you --one for me." Clink, clink. Beppe rubbed his eyes and yawned. "What was that?" one of them asked.  Beppe sat up on his marble --only it was not a ledge at all but the marble tom of someone long dead. He yawned again and stretched his arms, spreading wide the white linen cloth as he did so. "It is time to rise?" they yelled, and rushed out of the church. "Wait! Wait!" Beppe shouted after them. "I'm no ghost!" But they were gone-- and there was all that money glittering in the light of the candle. Beppe gathered the coins into the line cloth. It was no longer so fine and white, but that could not be helped. Beppe shrugged as he tied up the corners. "I might as well take this money home," he said. "My mama will know what to do with it." And he hoisted the heavy bundle onto his back.  "Beppe! Where have you?" She clasped him to her tightly, and tears poured from her eyes. When she realized that he was safe and unharmed, she pushed him from her and saw the linen cloth tied in a dirty bundle. "Well, it happened this way," Beppe said, and he told her the story from the beginning. By the time he got to the part about whacking the statue, his mama was pale with fright. "The police! Are they after you?" she asked. "No," Beppe said, and told her about hiding in the church and about the men who mistook him for a ghost. "I tried to tell them I was no ghost, but they ran away. So I gathered up the money and brought it with me --and here it is." Beppe untied the linen so she could see the pile of gold and silver coins. His mother gasped. Then she swooped up the four corner of the cloth and tied the money once more in a bundle. "Come with me," she commanded and dragged Beppe out the door with her. "We are going straight to the police with this. Even though the thieves left this money behind, it does not belong to us. The police will know what to do with it. And we'll see what we can do about the statue. Ai, ai, ai, Beppe. What a lot of trouble you bring upon my head." But as it happened, this time it was not trouble. For the money Mama Teresa turned over to the police chief was exactly the amount stolen from a merchant traveling through the city of Palermo. The merchant was so grateful to see his gold and silver again, the he gave Mama Teresa and Beppe a handsome reward. Part of this they used to pay for the repair of the statue Beppe had broken. And with the rest they were able to live comfortably for many months.
END
Source: CRICKET the magazine for children
Volume 3 Number 5
Copyright January 1976
Published by: Open Court Publishing Company
Pictures by Fritz Wegner
copyright 1976 by Lee Wyndham
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