Placing himself in the centre of the hall, Giovanni, with a bow to the company, played a little prelude, and then struck into the lively strains of the cachuca.

Cherry, who had stood looking at him, her head slightly bent, her lips apart, eyes and ears alert to catch the signal to begin, pointed her little foot at the precise moment, and, holding her dress in the tips of her slender fingers, slid into the movement with a grace and accuracy never to be attained except by vigorous practice, or a temperament as sensitive to time and tune, limbs as supple, and impulses as graceful, as were those of this gifted and unfortunate child.

“See there!-the poor little thing!” exclaimed one of the ladies, who came to the door of the drawing-room to see the performance.

“How can you say poor little thing?” asked another.  “Don’t you see how she enjoys it herself?  That smile is not the artificial grimace of a ballet-dancer; and no eyes ever sparkled so joyously to order.”

“Perhaps she does enjoy it; but all the more ‘Poor little thing!’ say I,” rejoined the first speaker, adding thoughtfully, “What sort of training for a woman is that?”

“Oh, well! but it is very pretty to see her; and she would probably be running in the streets, or doing worse, if she did not dance; and so little as she is!  It is equal to the theatre.”

The speaker drew out her purse as she spoke, and carelessly threw a dollar-bill towards the child, who had finished her dance, and stood looking round with an innocent smile, as if asking for applause rather than reward.

“Go and take it, carissima; and then hold your hand to the others; each will give you something,” said Giovanni in a low voice.

“How much we shall have to carry to mammy!” exclaimed the child eagerly; and, as she gathered in her harvest, she chattered away, always in Italian,—­

“And more, and more, and more!  O my father! how many cents they give me!  What nice people they are!  Let me dance some more for them; and let Pantalon come down, and let them see him.”

" No, no, child!  These are not of those who would care for Pantalon.  While you rest by and by, I shall take him and the organ, and go about the streets; but your little feet are worth many Pantalons to me.  Come, we will give them the tarantella as they have done so well.”

Skipping to his side, with a childish grace more attractive than the studied movements of the most accomplished actress, Cherry stuffed the proceeds of her first attempt into the pocket of her guardian, and then, throwing herself into position, went through the wild and grotesque movements of the tarantella, with a life and freshness that drew from the spectators a burst of applause and surprise.

“That will do.  We must not give them too much at once, lest the wonder come to an end.  Make the pretty kiss of the hand, figlia mia, and run up the stairs to your own little room.”