dear little girl. Then the signora sang again; when about to depart she
scribbled an address which she handed the bewildered man, and drove on
to her hotel.

What a Christmas was that! And what a feeling of happiness filled her
heart! And the duenna said nothing.

A day or two 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