Suddenly setting the flat-iron she had just taken back upon the stove, the washwoman came and bent over the child, looking earnestly into her face.

“An’ it’s waker an’ whiter she gits every day.  Sure and I’m afther seeing the daylight through the little hands uv her; and her eyes is that big, they take the breath uv me whin I mate ’em.  See, darlint!-see the purty skip-jack Teddy brought ye!”

She took from the table the toy she named, and, pulling the string, made the figure of the man vault over the top of the stick and back several times, crying at the same time,—­

“Hi, thin!-hi, thin!  See how the crather joomps, honey!”

But, although the languid eyes of the child followed her motions for a moment, no shadow of a smile stirred the parched lips; and presently the eyes closed, as if the effort were too much for them.

Mrs. Ginniss laid the toy upon the table, and took up the cup of beef-tea.

“Have a soop of yer dhrink, darlint?” said she, tenderly holding the cup to the child’s lips, and raising her head with the other hand; but, with a moan of impatience or distress, the weary head turned itself upon the pillow, and the little wasted hand half rose to push away the cup.

“An’ what is it I’ll plaze ye wid, mavourneen?  Do yees want Teddy to coom home?” asked the poor woman in despair.

A faint murmur of assent crept from between the parched lips; and the eyes, slowly opening, glanced toward the door.

“It’s this minute he’ll be here, thin,” said the washwoman joyfully.  “An’ faith yees ought to love him, honey; for he’d give the two eyes out of his head to plaze yees, an’ git down on his knees to thank yees for takin’ ’em.  Now, thin, don’t ye hear his fut upon the stair?”

But the heavy steps coming up the stairs were not Teddy’s, as his mother well knew; and although, when they stopped upon the landing below her own, she pretended to be much surprised, she would, in reality, have been much more so if they had not stopped.

“And it’s Jovarny it wor that time, honey,” said she soothingly:  “but Teddy’ll coom nixt; see if he doun’t, Cherry darlint.”

But Cherry, closing her eyes, with no effort at reply, lay as motionless upon her pillow as if she had been asleep or in a swoon.

Suddenly, from the room below, was heard a strain of plaintive music.  The organ-grinder, for some reason or other, was trying his instrument in his own room; although, remembering the sick child above, he played as softly and slowly as he could.  It was the first time he had done so since Cherry had been ill; and Mrs. Ginniss anxiously watched her face to see what effect the sounds would have.

The air was “Kathleen Mavourneen;” and, as one tender strain succeeded another, the watchful nurse could see a faint color stealing into the child’s face, while from between the half-closed lids her eyes shone brighter than they had for many a day.