University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.
TEDDY'S LITTLE SISTER.

“There, honey!” said Mrs. Ginniss, giving the last
rub to the shirt-bosom she was polishing, and setting her
flat-iron back on the stove with a smack, — “there, honey;
and I couldn't have done better by that buzzum if ye'd
been the Prisidint.”

Mrs. Ginniss was alone, so that one might at first have
been a little puzzled to know whom she addressed as
“honey;” but as she continued to talk while unfolding
another shirt, and laying it upon her ironing-board, it became
evident that she was addressing the absent owner of
the garments.

“And sure it's many a maner man they've made their
prisidints out on, and sorra a better one they'd find betune
here and Canady. It's yees that have the free hand and
the kind way wid yees, for all your grand looks. The good
Lord save and keep ye all the days of yer life!”

A wrinkle in the wristband here absorbed the attention

of the laundress; and, while smoothing it out, she forgot to
continue what she had been saying, but, as she once more
ironed briskly upon the sleeve, began upon a new subject.

“And it's late ye're agin, Teddy Ginniss, bad 'cess to
yees! And thin it's mesilf that should take shame for
saying it; for niver a b'y of them all is so good to his ould
mother, and niver a one of 'em all that his mother's got so
good a right to be proud on, as Ted. But where is the
cratur? His supper's cowld as charity wid stannin.”

At this moment a heavy step was heard upon the stairs,
as of some one climbing slowly up with a heavy burden in
his arms. Mrs. Ginniss paused to listen, holding the iron
suspended over the collar she had just smoothed ready
for it.

“Murther an' all!” muttered she. “And what's the
crather got wid him anyhow? Shure an it's him; for, if
it wor Jovarny with his orgin, he'd ha' stopped below.”

The heavy steps reached the top of the stairs as she spoke,
and clumped along the narrow passage to the door of Mrs.
Ginniss's garret. She was already holding it open.

“Teddy, b'y, an' is it yersilf?” asked she, peering out
into the darkness.

“Yes, mother, its meself,” panted a boy's voice, as a

stout young fellow, about fifteen years old, staggered into
the room, and sank upon a chair.

“Saints an' angels, child! and what have ye got there?”
exclaimed his mother, bending over the something that
filled Teddy's arms and lap.

“It's a little girl, mother; and I'm feared she's dead!”
panted Teddy.

“A little girl, an' she's dead! Oh, wurra, wurra,
Teddy Ginniss, that iver I should be own mother to a
murtherer! An' is it yersilf that kilt the purty darlint?”

“Meself, mother!” exclaimed the boy indignantly.
“Sure and it wasn't; and I wouldn't 'a thought you'd have
needed to ask. I found her on a doorstep in Tanner's
Court: and first I thought she was asleep, and so I shook
her to tell her to go home before the Charley got her; and
then, when she wouldn't wake up, I saw she was either
fainted or dead; and I fetched her home to you, — and it's
you that go for to call me a murtherer! Oh, oh!”

As he uttered these last sounds, the boy's wide mouth
puckered up in a comical look of distress, and he rubbed
the cuff of his jacket across his blinking eyes. Mrs. Ginniss
gave him a slap on the shoulder, intended to be playful,
but actually heavy enough to have thrown a slighter person
out of the chair.

“Whisht, honey, whisht!” said she. “And it's an ould
fool I am wid me fancies an' me frights. But let us look
at the poor little crather ye've brought home to me. Sure
and it was like yees, Teddy, b'y.”

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 purty 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.”

Teddy ran with the towel; and as his mother hastily
wrapped her little charge in her apron, and reseated herself
before the fire, he caught sight of two great bright
eyes staring up at him, and joyfully cried, —

“She's alive, she's alive! and she'll be my little sister,
and we'll keep her always, won't we, mother?”

“Wait, thin, till we see if it's here she is in the morning,”
said his mother mysteriously.

“And where else would she be, if not here?” asked
Teddy in surprise.

“If it war the good folks[1] that browt her, it's they that
will fetch her away agin 'fore the daylight. Wait till
mornin', Teddy darlint.”

But, in spite of her suspicions, Mrs. Ginniss did all for
the little stranger that she could have done for her own
child, even to heating and giving to her the cupful of milk
reserved for her own “tay” during the next day, and warming
her in her own bosom all through the long, cold night.