As she spoke, she took from Teddy’s arms the little lifeless form, with its pale, still face, and laid it gently upon her own bed.

“Oh thin! an’ it’s a shame to see the party darlint lay like that and I’m ’feared, unless the breath’s in her yet, she’s dead intirely,” muttered the good woman, rubbing the little hands in her own, and gently feeling for the beating of the heart.

“Maybe it’s only the cold and the hunger that’s ailing her, and she’ll come to with the fire and vittels.  She can have my supper and my breakfast too, and a welcome with it,” said Teddy eagerly.

“The cowld, maybe, it is; for her clothes is nixt to nothing, an’ the flesh of her’s like a stone wid the freezing:  but she’s got enough to ate, or she never’d be so round an’ plump.  It’s like she’s the child of some beggar-woman that’s fed her on broken vittels, an’, whin she got tired ov trampin’ wid her, jist dropped her on the doorstep where yees got her.—­Howly mother! what’s this?”

Mrs. Ginniss, as she spoke, had taken the little lifeless form upon her lap close to the stove, and was undressing it, when, among the folds of the old shawl crossed over the bosom, she found a bracelet of coral cameos, set in gold, and fastened with a handsome clasp.

She held it up, stared at it a moment, and then looked anxiously at Teddy.

“An’ where did this splindid armlit come from, Teddy Ginniss?” asked she sharply.

“Sorra a bit of me knows, thin; an’ is it a thafe ye’ll be callin’ me as well as a murtherer!” exclaimed the boy, falling, in his agitation, into the Irish brogue he was generally so careful to avoid.

“Whisht, ye spalpeen! an’ lave it on the mantletry till we see if the breath’s in her yit.  Sure an’ sich a little crather niver could have stole it.”

Teddy, with an air of dignified resentment, took the bracelet from his mother’s hand, and laid it upon the mantlepiece; while Mrs. Ginniss, with a troubled look upon her broad face, finished stripping the little form, and began rubbing it all over with her warm hands.

“Power some warm wather into the biggest wash-tub, Teddy, an’ I’ll thry puttin’ her in it.  It’s what the Yankee doctor said to do wid yees, whin yees had fits; an’ it niver did no harm, anyways.”

“Is it a fit she’s got?” asked Teddy, with a look of awe upon his face.

“The good Lord knows what’s she’s got, or who she is.  Mabbe the good folk put her where yees got her.  Niver a beggar-brat before had a skin so satin-smooth, an’ hands an’ feet like rose-leaves and milk.  An’ look how clane she is from head to heel!  Niver a corpse ready for the wakin’ was nater.”

“The water’s ready now,” said Teddy, pushing the tub close to his mother’s side, and then walking away to the window.  For some moments, the gentle plashing of the water was the only sound he heard; but then his mother hastily exclaimed,—­

“Glory be to God an’ to his saints!  The purty crather’s alive, and lookin’ at me wid the two blue eyes av her like a little angel!  Han’ me the big tow’l till I rub her dhry.”