The subtle eye of the Italian marked every point of this exquisite loveliness, ran admiringly over the outlines of the graceful figure, the delicate hands and little feet, the classic curve of the lips, the thin nostrils and tiny ears; then returned to the clear, full eyes, with their pencilled brows and heavy lashes, and smiled at the earnestness of the gaze that met his own. Then, from this lovely and patrician face, the Italian's eyes wandered to Teddy's coarse and unformed features, and figure of uncouth strength. "Nightingales are not hatched from hens' eggs," muttered Giovanni in his native tongue. "Speak that some more; I like it," said Cherry softly. "Yes; and you are like it, and, like all that belongs to my Italian, beautiful and graceful," said Giovanni, dropping the liquid accents as lovingly from his lips as if they had been a kiss. Then, in the imperfect English he generally spoke, he asked of Teddy,-- "Where did the child come from?" "She's my little sister," replied the boy doggedly. The Italian shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows, muttering in his own tongue,-- "I never heard or saw any child above there in the first weeks of my living here. But what affair is it of mine? The child I have lost is safe with the Holy Mother!" He crossed himself, and muttered a prayer; then from behind the stove, where he lay warming himself, pulled a little creature, at sight of whom Cherry uttered a scream, and clung to Teddy. "It's the monkey, sissy; it's Jovarny's monkey; and his name is Pantaloons," explained Teddy. "Pantalon," corrected the monkey's master; and snapping his fingers, and whistling to the monkey, he called him to his shoulder, and made him go through a number of tricks and gestures,--some of them so droll, that Cherry's terror ended in peals of laughter; and she soon left Teddy's side to run and caper about the room in imitation of the monkey's antics. "Does she dance, the little one?" asked Giovanni, watching the child's lithe movements admiringly. "Sure, and every step she takes is as good as dancing," said Teddy evasively. "Let us see, then." And the Italian, arranging the stops of his organ, played the pretty waltz Cherry had so often heard from it, and liked so well. The child continued her frolicsome motions, unconsciously adapting them to the music, until she was moving in perfect harmony with it, although not in the step or figure of a waltz. "She was born to dance!" exclaimed Giovanni with enthusiasm; and, moving the stops of the organ, he passed, without pause, into the gay and airy movement of the cachuca. As the first tones struck the child's ear, she faltered; then stopped, turned pale, and listened intently.