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Show THE ARCHBISHOP AND THE NAU GHTY LITTLE GIRL. When Mgr. Martinelli was Apostolic Delegate to the l'nite.1 States, and was living in Washington, Washing-ton, writes Charles J. Phillips, in the Northwestern Northwest-ern Chronicle, he was naturally in great demand at that glorious season of th.- year known as graduation grad-uation time, and the invitations he received to preside over ihe fluffy flowery affairs of commencement commence-ment were innumerable. He filled many sueh engagements. One unusually unusual-ly warm afternoon found him occupying the center cen-ter of the stage at a Southern convent, presiding over the closing exercises of the institution behind an .enormous armful of American Beauty roses that had been presented him. The programme was a long one. Innumerable essays on Joan of. Arc and Tennyson's poetry and the love of flowers wero breathed in girlish tones from out. as many rustling visions of lawn and, lace. Baskets upon baskets of Uowers were passed upon the stage. There were musical interludes and vocal selections; and still the inexhaustible stream of wisdom and genius flowed on. Then came a shift in the scene and prizes began to be distributed. The distinguished prelate, from behind his bower of roses, studied the row of girlish girl-ish faces, big and little, as they listened to the reading of the names. Suddenly he espied one par: ticular little maiden 'who sat wonderfully still, but in whose eyes there seemed to lie a shadow instead of the light that danced across the others' eager faces. She appeared as if she had not moved since the exercises began, and through all the gay triumphs tri-umphs of honor won and conferred that followed, she remained almost immovable, scarcely shifting her gaze from that far-away stare her gaze first attracted the Monsignor's attention. One by one the girls responded to their names, and rose to receive their honors. The still little miss did not move; she received no prize. At last the gifts were all distributed, and the exercises were soon at an end. The formality of the stage was broken, and the platform was quickly crowded with laughing friends. Mgr. Martinelli. welcoming the chance, was making his way out. with his escort, when he encountered the quiet little lady' at whom he had looked so intently. . "Well, my little friend." he said, ;'how is it that you did not receive any prize this afternoon.;' 'T have been a naughty girl." she answered, hesitating a little, but si ill preserving her strange-composure. strange-composure. "A naughty girl? Oh. I cannot believe that," II is Excellency replied." "Indeed, you must have a prize," he continued. "Do you think you can carry it?" And into the arms of the bewildered child he pressed his enormous bouquet of rich red roses. "Anyone," said the Moiisignor, "who could sit still through all this afternoon cannot be a very bad little girl, I think!" Catholic Universe. |