Giovanni followed, carrying a bundle, and his violin wrapped in
papers. These, he explained to Mrs. Ginniss, were only some matters
he had to leave with a friend as he went along; but he should not go
into any house, or take the little girl anywhere but for the walk he
had mentioned.

"Faix, an' it's mighty ginteel ye are, anyway, Misther Jovarny,"
said the Irishwoman, watching the pair from the window of her attic
as they walked slowly up the street. "But I'm afther wishin' I'd
said no whin I said yis. Nor yet I couldn't tell why, more than that
Teddy'll be mad to hear she's been wid him. But the b'y hasn't sinse
whin it's about the little sisther he's talkin'. He thinks the
ground isn't good enough for her to walk on, nor goold bright enough
for her to wear."

So saying, Mrs. Ginniss closed the window, and, throwing a little
shawl over her head, locked the door, leaving the key underneath,
and hurried away to her sick friend, with whom she staid till nearly
night.

Giovanni and Cherry, meantime, walked gayly on, chatting, now of the
wonderful things about them, now of the yet more wonderful scenes
they were to visit. At a confectioner's shop, in a shady by-street,
they stopped to rest for a while; and the Italian provided his
little guest with ice-creams, cakes, and candies, to her heart's
content.

"I like these better than potatoes and pork-meat. I used to eat
these in heaven," said the little girl, pausing to look at a