Sofia continues to chronicle life in her new home, the North End of Boston, as her best friend Maureen comes to live with her, and her parents open their own store. Sofia describes the daily hardships and joys that she meets as a new American.

		October 21, 1903 It is hard for me to believe that Maureen, my best friend in all the world, has been here exactly one week today. It seems as if we never were apart. Her bed is right next to mine and we talk all night long. Gabriella is always telling us to be quiet. But how can we be quiet? It is such a miracle--that she is here in the North End of Boston, that we are in this cozy room and not in that horrible hospital on Ellis Island in New York, where we first met and were quarantined. It is, as Papa would say, a miracolo grande--a huge miracle. And for me, talking in English with Maureen is the biggest miracle of all. When I came to this country I did not speak one word of English. And Maureen, who came from Ireland, did not speak one word of Italian. Of course there are un-miracle: The greatest un-miracle is that Maureen is here because her mother died and her father had to go back to Ireland with the rest of the children. Father Finnegan arranged for Maureen to come here to Boston. The other un-miracle is my leg. Two months ago I suffered the illness called infantile paralysis. Dr. Balboni, our dearest friend, says it is a miracle that I lived and that my skinny other little leg that makes me limp is proof of that miracle. So that I live is, yes, a miracle but the leg is a part of me that died. So I think that is not such a miracle.