I didn't know who
she was; and I took her home to my mother, and asked her to keep her
for my little sister, because I never got one, and always wanted
her. Then she was sick; and one day you told me she was lost, and
showed me the picture and the piece in the paper; and I knew it was
her. Then I thought she was going to die, and I waited to know; and,
when she got better, I waited a while longer; and at last she was
well, and I couldn't bear to part with her"--
"But she is safe now?" interrupted Mr. Burroughs, his look of stern
reproach mingling with a sudden hope.
"No, sir: she's lost!"
"What!"
Teddy's white lips tried again and again before they could form the
words,--
"She's lost again, sir! She went out walking with Jovarny, that's
an organ-grinder, last Monday morning; and he has taken her off."
"You miserable fellow! You had better have killed as well as stolen
her!" exclaimed Mr. Burroughs.
Teddy clung to the table, and reeled as if a physical blow had
fallen upon him. It was the first time in the four years they had
spent together that his master had spoken to him in anger, and now,--
"Five days ago! And what have you done in that time towards looking
for her?" asked Mr. Burroughs sternly.
"Nothing, sir.
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