My father wishes me to have some one of my schoolmates come toour house every holiday,or that I should go to see one of them,in order that I may gradually become friends with all of them.Sunday I shall go to walk with Votini,the well-dressed boy who is always brushing himself up,and who is so envious of Derossi.In the meantime,Garoffi came to the house today,that long,lank boy,with the nose like an owl's beak,and small,knavish eyes,which seem to be ferreting everywhere.He is the son of a grocer,and is a queer fellow；he is always counting the soldi in his pocket；he reckons them on his fingers very,very rapidly,and goes through some process of multiplicationwithout any tables；and he hoards his money,and already has a book in the Scholars'Savings Bank.He never spends a soldo,I am positive；and if he drops a centesimo under the benches,he is likely to hunt for it a week.He does as magpies do,so Derossi says.Everything that he finds-worn-out pens,postage-stamps that have been used,pins,candle-ends-he picks up.He has been collecting postage-stamps for more than two years now；and he already has hundreds of them from every country,in a large album,which he will sell to a bookseller later on,when he has got it quite full.Meanwhile,the bookseller gives him his copybooks,because he takes a great many boys to the shop.

In school,he is always bartering；he effects sales of little articles every day,and gets up lotteries and exchanges；then he regrets the trade,and wants his stuff back again.He buys for two and sells for four；he plays at pitch-penny,and never loses；he sells old newspapers over again to the tobacconist；and he keeps a little blank-book,full of figures,in which he sets down his transactions.At school he studies nothing but arithmetic；and if he desires the medal,it is only that he may have a free entrance into the puppet-show.

But he pleases me；he amuses me.We played at keeping a market,with weights and scales.He knows the exact price of everything；he understands weighing,and quickly makes handsome paper horns,like shopkeepers.He declares that as soon as he has finished school he shall set up in business-in a new business which he has invented himself.He was very much pleased when I gave him some foreign postage-stamps；and he informed me exactly how each one sold for collections.My father pretended to be reading the newspaper；but he listened to him,and was greatly diverted.His pockets are bulging,full of his little wares；and he covers them up with a long,black cloak,and always appears thoughtful and preoccupied with business,like a merchant.

But the thing that he has nearest his heart is his collection of postage-stamps.This is his treasure；and he always speaks of it as though he were going to get a fortune out of it.The boys accuse him of miserliness and usury.I do not know：I like him；he teaches me a great many things；he seems a man to me.Coretti,the son of the wood-merchant,says that Garoffi would not give him his postage-stamps to save his mother's life.My father does notbelieve it.

“Wait a little before you condemn him，”he said to me，“he has this passion,but he has heart as well.”