o later the beggar and his grandchild appeared at the private
entrance of the hotel where the signora was sojourning. The paper he
carried in his hand was a passport, and he soon stood in her parlor.
He was dressed in a neat new suit, and the child was as sweet as a wild
rose.

"Come and kiss me, little one," said the beautiful lady. "I want to hear
you sing."

Unappalled by the richness of the apartment, and conscious only the
kindness shown her, the child, who was about twelve years old, sang one
of the popular street ballads of the day.

"Santa Maria!" exclaimed the signora, who always ejaculated in her own
tongue. "But you have a treasure here, my friend! The child is a wonder.
This voice must be trained--we will see--we will see."

Touching an electric bell, she summoned a messenger and hastily wrote
a line which she gave him. During the boy's absence she questioned the
strange pair in whom she felt so absorbing an interest, and gathered
what there was to tell of their daily life. Their neighbors were kind,
and the women exercised a sort of motherly care over the little girl;
but the very best there was to know seemed bad enough, and the singer
shuddered as she imagined the dreariness of such poverty as their's.

In answer to the call a young man stood before her.

"Beppo," she said, "your fortune is made; look at that old man." She
spoke in Italian, and the face of the artist, for such he was, lit up
with enthusiasm, as he marked the striking head and face of the person
indicated. "Your model for the Beggar of San Carlo," continued the lady.

Beppo Cellini, at the bidding of his countrywoman, at once made terms
with the old man to sit to him for his great Academy picture.

The little girl, whose voice now commands thousands of dollars on the
operatic stage, was placed under training at the joint expense of her
benefactress and two other artist friends.

The old man, Signor Beppo's model, is at rest now, but he still lives
in the "Beggar of San Carlo." And the Signora Cavada, among all the
good deeds of her charitable career, has never known a truer thrill
of happiness than she experienced on her American Christmas Day.

Turning the Tables

A PRACTICAL STORY

There was great commotion in the kitchen of a large seaside hotel not
many miles from Long Branch. A commotion in fact, that struck dismay to
the heart of the proprietor, who, upon visiting the store-room near by,
was caught and detained,