Throwing her apron over her head, Mrs. Ginniss fell into at chair, and gave way to the agitation and alarm she had so long suppressed; but Teddy, ordinarily so kind, and tender of his mother, stared at her blankly, and repeated,—­

“This morning!  How early this morning?”

“I wor jist afther washin’ the bit breakfast-dishes,” sobbed Mrs. Ginniss.

“Twelve hours or near!” exclaimed Teddy in dismay.  “And is it to the Gardens he said he’d take her?”

“Shure an’ did he!”

“To the Public Gardens, the City Gardens, just by the Commons?” persisted Teddy.

“Jist the Gardens wor all he said; an’ towld me the shwans that wor in it, an’ the bit posies.”

“Yes:  there’s swans there, and posies enough,” muttered Teddy, and, snatching the hat he had thrown upon a chair as he entered, rushed out of the room and down the stairs at headlong speed.

But, before he could possibly have reached the Garden, the sun had set, all visitors were excluded, and the gate-keeper had gone home.  Nothing daunted, Teddy scaled the high iron fence; ran rapidly through all the paths, arbors, nooks, and corners of the place; and finally returned over the fence, just in time, to be collared by a policeman, who had been watching him:  but so sincere was the boy’s tone and manner, as he assured the official that he was after no harm but was looking for his little sister, who had been taken away from home, and, as he feared, lost, that the guardian of the public peace not only released him, but inquired with some interest into the particulars of the case; saying that he had been likely to notice any one remaining in the Garden longer than usual.

Teddy, with anxious minuteness, described the appearance both of the lost child and the “organ-fellow,” as he called Giovanni; and gave the particulars of their leaving home as his mother had given them to him.  The policeman listened attentively, but shook his head at the end.

“Haven’t seen any sich,” said he.  “Them I-talian fellers is a bad lot; and I shouldn’t wonder if he’d took off the child to learn her to play a tambourine, and go round picking up croppers for him.  You’d better wait till morning; and, if they don’t turn up, her mother can go and tell the chief about it.”

“Chief of police?” asked Teddy.

“Yes; but it ain’t always he can do any thing.  There was that little gal, a year ago pretty nigh, belonged to a man by the name of Legrange.  She was lost, and they offered a reward of ten thousand dollars finally; but she warn’t never heard from.  You see, there’s sich a many children all about:  and come to change their clothes, and crop their hair, it’s hard to tell t’other from which,” said the policeman meditatively; and then, suddenly resuming his official dignity, added, “You mustn’t never get over that fence again, though:  mind that, young man.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Teddy, turning away to hide the guilty confusion of his face; and, as he hurried home, he anxiously revolved the idea of applying to the police for aid, should Cherry remain absent after the next morning.  But Teddy knew something of the law, and had too often seen better hidden secrets than his own ferreted out and brought to the light by its searching finger, to wish to trust himself within its grasp; at any rate, just yet.