FEBRUARY
A MEDAL WELL BESTOWED
THIS morning the superintendent of the schools, a gentleman with a white beard, and dressed in black, came to present the medals. He came in with the principal a little before the close and seated himself beside the teacher. He questioned a few, then gave the first medal to Derossi, and before giving the second, he stood for a few moments listening to the teacher and the principal, who were talking to him in a low voice. All were asking themselves, “To whom will he give the second?”
The superintendent said aloud:—“Pupil Pietro Precossi has merited the second medal this week,—merited it by his work at home, by his lessons, by his handwriting, by his conduct in every way.”
All turned to look at Precossi, and seemed pleased. Precossi rose in such confusion that he did not know where he was.
“Come here,” said the superintendent. Precossi sprang up from his seat and went to the master's table. The superintendent looked attentively at the little waxen face, at the puny body enveloped in turned and ill-fitting garments, at the kind, sad eyes, which avoided his, but which hinted at a story of suffering; then he said to him, in a voice full of affection, as he fastened the medal on his shoulder;—
