"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