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found her favorite, St. Francis, among them.
"This is more to my taste. Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows
give me the blues, but here's a gentlemanly saint who takes things
easy and does good as he goes along without howling over his own
sins or making other people miserable by telling them of theirs."
And Charlie laid a handsome St. Martin beside the brown-frocked
Rose looked at both and understood why her cousin preferred the
soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix. One
was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with
horse and hound and squires at his back; and the other was in a
lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying. The contrast was a
strong one, and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight,
though she said thoughtfully, "Yours is certainly the pleasantest
and yet I never heard of any good deed he did, except divide his
cloak with a beggar, while St. Francis gave himself to charity just
when life was most tempting and spent years working for God
without reward. He's old and poor, and in a dreadful place, but I
won't give him up, and you may have your gay St. Martin if you
"No, thank you, saints are not in my line but I'd like the
golden-haired angel in the blue gown if you'll let me have her. She
shall be my little Madonna, and I'll pray to her like a good
Catholic," answered Charlie, turning to the delicate, deep-eyed
figure with the lilies in its hand.
"With all my heart, and any others that you like. Choose some for
your mother and give them to her with my love."
So Charlie sat down beside Rose to turn and talk over the pictures
for a long and pleasant hour. But when they went away to lunch, if
there had been anyone to observe so small but significant a trifle,
good St. Francis lay face downward behind the sofa, while gallant
St. Martin stood erect upon the chimneypiece.
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