“If I find her, I’ll give her up, and tell all, and never touch the reward; but how can I go and say she’s lost again?” thought Teddy, with a sick heart.  And when, running up the stairs, his quick eyes caught sight of his mother’s face, his own turned so ghastly white, that she ran toward him, crying,—­

“An’ is it dead you’ve found her, Teddy?”

“Worse; for she’s lost; and all that comes to her is on my shoulders,” said Teddy hoarsely, as he stood just within the door, looking hungrily about the room, as if he hoped, in some forgotten corner, to light upon his lost treasure.

“Did Jovarny take his organ and the monkey?” asked he suddenly.

“Sure, and he didn’t; for I mind luckin’ afther him going down the street.”

“Then he’ll be back!” exclaimed the boy eagerly; but the next moment the new hope died out of his face, and he muttered,—­

“He might have taken them before.  Anyway, I’ll soon see;” and, running down the stairs, Teddy applied his sturdy shoulder and knee to the rickety door of the Italian’s room.  Neither door nor lock was fitted to withstand much force, and, with a sharp sound of rending wood and breaking iron, they flew apart; and Teddy, stepping over the threshold, glanced eagerly around.  The room was stripped of everything except the poor furniture, which Teddy knew the Italian had hired with it, and the wooden box where he had kept his clothes.  Of this the key remained in the lock; and, the boy, lifting the lid, soon discovered that a few worthless rags were all that remained.

“He’s gone, and she with him!” groaned Teddy, dropping the box-cover, and standing upright to look again through the deserted room.  His mother stood in the doorway.

“Och, Teddy! an’ it’s desaved us intirely he has,—­the black-hearted crather; an’ may the cuss O’ Crom’ell stick to him day an’ night, an’ turn his sleep to wakin’, an’ his mate to pizen, till all I wish him is wished out!”

“It’s no good cursing or wishing, mother,” said Teddy bitterly.  “If there was, I’d curse myself the first; for it’s on me it had ought to fall.”

“Sorra a bit of that, thin, Teddy mavourneen; for iver an’ always it was yersilf that wor tinder an’ careful uv her that’s gone; an’ yersilf it wor that saved the life of her, the night she first come home to us; an’ it’s none but good that iver yees did her in all the days of yer life; an’, if there’s any blame to be had betwixt us, it’s on yer poor owld mother it should be laid,—­her that loved the purty darlint as if she’d been her own, an’, if she’s lost, will carry a brucken heart to her grave wid mournin’ afther her.  O wurra, wurra, acushla machree!  Och the heavy day an’ the black night that’s in it!  Holy Jasus, have mercy on us!  Spake the good word for us, blissid Vargin!  Saint Bridget (that’s me own namesake), stip up an’ intersade for us now, if iver; for black is the nade we have uv help.”