which is music celestial
to these Neapolitan strangers upon our inhospitable shores, she added,
"I want to know you; I want to talk to you."

She glanced quickly about the room. A littered, greasy cook stove
stood in one corner. Close to it at either end were wooden couches,
upon which were strewn a few tattered spreads and blankets, stained
and grimy. A broken table, a decrepit chest of drawers, and a few
rickety chairs completed the complement of furniture. The walls were
unadorned, except for a stained chromo of the Virgin, and the plaster
had fallen away in many places. There was only one window in the room.
Several of its panes were broken and stuffed with rags and papers.

At the sound of her own language the woman's expression changed. A
light came into her dull eyes, and she awkwardly took the proffered
hand.

"You are--from Italy?" she said in her native tongue. Then, sweeping
the girl's warm attire with a quick glance, "You are rich! Why do you
come here?"

"Your little boy brought me. And I am glad he did. No, I am not from
Italy. I am rich, yes, but not in money."

The woman turned to her children and sent the little brood scattering.
At another sharp command little Tony set out a soiled, broken chair
for Carmen. But before the girl could take it the woman's voice again
rose sharply.

"Wait!" she commanded, turning fiercely upon Carmen. "You are--what do
you say? slumming. You come with your gay party to look us over and go
away laughing! No! You can not stay!"

Carmen did not smile. But reaching out, she gently lifted the heavy
baby from the woman's arms and sat down with it. For a moment she
patted its cheeks and bent tenderly over it. Then she looked up at the
bewildered mother.

"I have come here," she said softly, "because I love you."

The woman's lips parted in astonishment. She turned dully and sat down
on one of the begrimed beds. Her little ones gathered about her, their
soiled fingers in their mouths, or clutching their tattered gowns, as
they gazed at the beautiful creature who had suddenly come into their
midst.

Then the woman found her voice again. "Eh! You are from the mission?
You come to talk of heaven? But I am busy."

"I am not from the mission," replied the girl gently. "I have come to
talk, not of heaven, but of earth, and of you, and of Tony," smiling
down into the eager face of the little boy as he stood before her.

"You can't have Tony!" cried the mother, starting up