An hour or two later, Mrs. Legrange went to seek her housekeeper, and found her seated upon the step of the back door, her hands clasped around her knees, and softly crooning a wild Irish melody to herself as she rocked slowly backward and forward, her eyes fixed upon the little crescent moon, swimming like a silver boat in the golden sea of sunset.

“An’ isn’t it a purty sight, you?” asked she, rising as Mrs. Legrange spoke to her.  “Sure an’ its the hooney-moon for Misther Booros an’ the swate young lady that’s to marry him.”

“Yes, it’s their honey-moon; and I believe it will be as bright and as long a one as ever shone,” said Mrs. Legrange, smiling tenderly, as happy wives will do in speaking of the future of a bride.

“I came to ask you to go up stairs with me, Mrs. Ginniss,” continued she with a little agitation in her sweet voice.  “There is something for you to see.”

“Sure an’ I will, ma’am.  Is it the chambers isn’t settled to shute yees?”

“Oh, no! every thing is admirable, except that we must contrive a little bed for ’Toinette upon the couch in my room.”

“An’ faith, that’s asy done, ma’am.  There’s lashin’s o’ blankets an’ sheets an’ pillers not in use at all, at all.  We’ve plenty uv ivery thin’ in this house, glory be to God!”

Mrs. Legrange smiled a little at the satisfaction with which the Irish woman contemplated a superfluity, even when not belonging to herself; and led the way to her own chamber, where sat Dora, as she had sat many a time within those four walls, holding Sunshine upon her lap, and, while loosening her clothes for the night, telling her one of the stories of which the child was never weary.

“See here, Mrs. Ginniss!” said the mother hastily, as she stripped the frock from the child’s white shoulders, and showed a little linen bag hung about her neck by a silken cord.  “Did you ever see that before?”

“Sure an’ what would ail me owld eyes not to seen it, whin me own fingers sewed it, an’ me own han’s hoong it aboot the little crather’s nick?”

“You are quite sure it is the very same?”

“Quite an’ intirely; for more by token the clot’ is a bit uv the linen gownd that my mother give me whin I wor married to Michael, an’ the sthring wor to a locket that my b’y give me one Christmas Day.”

“And what is in it?” asked Mrs. Legrange eagerly.

“The bracelet, uv coorse.  Whin Teddy brought her to me the black night he foun’ her sinseless in the strate, she had it clinched in the little hand uv her; an’, whin she got betther, there wor nought she loved so well to have by her, an’ tooch, an’ look at.  So when she roomed about, an’ I wor thinkin’ it might be laid asthray, or she might lave it out the windy, or some place, an’ not find it, I sewed it in the bit bag, an’ placed it round her nick, and bid her niver, niver, niver let it be took off till she coom to her own agin.