“And my little Julietta, like you, loved music and dancing, and sang like the angels,” said he, smoothing Cherry’s shining curls.

“Did she?  Then she sings in heaven, and is happy:  and by and by, when we go there, we’ll see her; won’t we?”

The Italian shook his head.

“You may, picciola; but the good God, if he takes me to heaven, must make me so changed, that Julietta could no longer know me, or I her.  We men are not as little maidens.”

Then, with a sudden change of mood, the Italian snatched from its case his cherished violin, and drew from it such joyous strains, that the child, clapping her hands, and skipping round the room, cried,—­

“It laughs! the music laughs, and makes me laugh too!  And Pantalon-see poor Pantalon try to laugh, and he can’t!”

Giovanni stopped suddenly, and laid down his violin.  A new thought, a sudden plan, had entered his head, and made his breath come quick, and his eyes grow bright.  He looked attentively at the child for a moment, and then said,—­

“Julietta used to wear such a beautiful dress, and go with me to the houses of rich people to dance; but you dance better than she did, picciola.”

“Oh! let me go, and wear a beautiful dress.  I don’t like this dress a bit!” said Cherry, plucking nervously at the coarse and tawdry calico frock Mrs. Ginniss had thought it quite a triumph to obtain and to make up.

“I have saved two of Julietta’s dresses for love of her.  You shall see them,” said the Italian; and from the box where he kept his clothes he presently brought a small bundle, and, unfolding it, shook out two little frocks,—­one of pink silk, covered with spangles; the other a gay brocade, upon whose white ground tiny rosebuds were dotted in a graceful pattern.  Some long silk stockings, and white satin boots with red heels, and blue tassels at the ankle, dropped from the bundle; and from one of the latter Giovanni drew a wreath of crushed and faded artificial roses.

“All these were given her by the beautiful march‚sa for whom she was named.  Many times we have been to play and dance before her pal zzo; and she, sending for us in, has given the little one a dress or a wreath, or a handful of confetti, or a silver-piece in her hand.  It was when the march‚sa died that our troubles began; and in three months more the little Julietta followed her, and Steph na (that was my wife) went from me, and—­But see, picciola! is it not a pretty dress?  Let us put it upon you, and it shall dance the Romaika with you as it once did with her.”

Nothing loath, Cherry hastened, with the help of the Italian, to array herself in the pink-silk frock, and to exchange her coarse shoes for the silken hose and satin boots of the little lost Julietta.  Although somewhat large, the clothes fitted better than those Cherry had taken off; and when, seizing the violin, Giovanni drew a long, warning note, the little dancer took her position, and pointed her tiny foot with so assured and graceful an air, that the Italian, nodding and smiling, cried with enthusiasm,—­