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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
+by Horatio Alger
+(#11 in our series by Horatio Alger)
+
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+Title: Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
+
+Author: Horatio Alger
+
+Release Date: November, 2003  [Etext #4660]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 23, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
+by Horatio Alger
+******This file should be named tmthy10.txt or tmthy10.zip******
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+
+TIMOTHY CRUMP'S WARD:
+
+A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE.
+
+by Horatio Alger
+
+1866.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+
+I. INTRODUCES THE CRUMPS
+II. THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING
+III. THE LANDLORD'S VISIT
+IV. THE NEW YEAR'S PRESENT
+V. A LUCKY RESCUE
+VI. WHAT THE ENVELOPE CONTAINED
+VII. EIGHT YEARS. IDA'S PROGRESS
+VIII. A STRANGE VISITOR
+IX. A JOURNEY
+X. UNEXPECTED QUARTERS
+XI. SUSPENSE
+XII. HOW IDA FARED
+XIII. BAD COIN
+XIV. DOUBTS AND FEARS
+XV. AUNT RACHEL'S MISHAPS
+XVI. THE FLOWER-GIRL
+XVII. JACK (sic) OBTAIN'S INFORMATION
+XVIII. FINESSE
+XIX. CAUGHT IN A TRAP
+XX. JACK IN CONFINEMENT
+XXI. THE PRISONER ESCAPES
+XXII. MR. JOHN SOMERVILLE
+XXIII. THE LAW STEPS IN
+XXIV. "THE FLOWER-GIRL"
+XXV. IDA IS FOUND
+XXVI. "NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND"
+XXVII. CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TIMOTHY CRUMP'S WARD.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+INTRODUCES THE CRUMPS.
+
+
+
+
+
+IT was drawing towards the close of the last day of the year. A few
+hours more, and 1836 would be no more.
+
+It was a cold day. There was no snow on the ground, but it was
+frozen into stiff ridges, making it uncomfortable to walk upon. The
+sun had been out all day, but there was little heat or comfort in
+its bright, but frosty beams.
+
+The winter is a hard season for the poor. It multiplies their
+necessities, while, in general, it limits their means and
+opportunities of earning. The winter of 1836-37 was far from being
+an exception to this rule. It was worse than usual, on account of
+the general stagnation of business.
+
+In an humble tenement, located on what was then the outskirts of New
+York, though to-day a granite warehouse stands on the spot, lived
+Timothy Crump, an industrious cooper. His family consisted of a wife
+and one child, a boy of twelve, whose baptismal name was John,
+though invariably addressed, by his companions, as Jack.
+
+There was another member of the household who would be highly
+offended if she were not introduced, in due form, to the reader.
+This was Miss Rachel Crump, maiden sister of Uncle Tim, as he was
+usually designated.
+
+Miss Rachel was not much like her brother, for while the latter was
+a good-hearted, cheerful easy man, who was inclined to view the
+world in its sunniest aspect, Rachel was cynical, and given to
+misanthropy. Poor Rachel, let us not be too hard upon thy
+infirmities. Could we lift the veil that hides the secrets of that
+virgin heart, it might be, perchance, that we should find a hidden
+cause, far back in the days when thy cheeks were rounder and thine
+eyes brighter, and thine aspect not quite so frosty. Ah, faithless
+Harry Fletcher! thou hadst some hand in that peevishness and
+repining which make Rachel Crump, and all about her, uncomfortable.
+Lured away by a prettier face, you left her to pass through life,
+unblessed by that love which every female heart craves, and for
+which no kindred love will compensate. It was your faithlessness
+that left her to walk, with repining spirit, the flinty path of the
+old maid.
+
+Yes; it must be said--Rachel Crump was an old maid; not from choice,
+but hard necessity. And so, one by one, she closed up the avenues of
+her heart, and clothed herself with complaining, as with a garment.
+Being unblessed with earthly means, she had accepted the hearty
+invitation of her brother, and become an inmate of his family, where
+she paid her board by little services about the house, and obtained
+sufficient needle-work to replenish her wardrobe as often as there
+was occasion. Forty-five years had now rolled over her head, leaving
+clearer traces of their presence, doubtless, than if her spirit had
+been more cheerful; so that Rachel, whose strongly marked features
+never could have been handsome, was now undeniably homely.
+
+Mrs. Crump, fortunately for her husband's peace, did not in the
+least resemble her sister-in-law. Her disposition was cheerful, and
+she had frequent occasion to remonstrate with her upon the dark view
+she took of life. Had her temper been different, it is very easy to
+see that she would have been continually quarrelling with Rachel;
+but, happily, she was one of those women with whom it is impossible
+to quarrel. With her broad mantle of charity, she was always seeking
+to cover up and extenuate the defects of her sister-in-law, though
+she could not help acknowledging their existence.
+
+It had been a hard winter for the cooper. For a month he had been
+unable to obtain work of any kind, and for the two months previous
+he had worked scarcely more than half the time. Unfortunately for
+him, his expenses for a few years back had kept such even pace with
+his income, that he had no reserved fund to fall back upon in such a
+time as this. That was no fault of his. Both he and his wife had
+been economical enough, but there are a great many things included
+in family expenses--rent, fuel, provisions, food, clothing, and a
+long list of sundries, besides; and all these had cost money, of
+which desirable article Uncle Tim's trade furnished not a very large
+supply.
+
+So it happened that, as tradesmen were slow to trust, they had been
+obliged to part with a sofa to defray the expenses of the month of
+December. This article was selected because it was best convertible
+into cash,--being wanted by a neighbor,--besides being about the
+only article of luxury, if it could be called such, in possession of
+the family. As such it had been hardly used, being reserved for
+state occasions; yet hardly had it left (sic) the the house, when
+Aunt Rachel began to show signs of extreme lowness of spirits, and
+bewailed its loss as a privation of a personal comfort.
+
+"Life's full of disappointments," she groaned. "Our paths is
+continually beset by 'em. There's that sofa! It's so pleasant to
+have one in the house when a body's sick. But there, it's gone, and
+if I happen to get down, as most likely I shall, for I've got a bad
+feeling in my stummick this very minute, I shall have to go
+up-stairs, and most likely catch my death of cold, and that will be
+the end of me."
+
+"Not so bad as that, I hope," said Mrs. Crump, cheerfully. "You
+know, when you was sick last, you didn't want to use the sofa--you
+said it didn't lay comfortable. Besides, I hope, before you are sick
+again we may be able to buy it back again."
+
+Aunt Rachel shook her head despondingly.
+
+"There ain't any use in hoping that," said she. "Timothy's got so
+much behindhand that he won't be able to get up again; I know he
+won't."
+
+"But if he manages to get steady work soon, he will."
+
+"No, he won't. I'm sure he won't. There won't be any work before
+spring, and most likely not then."
+
+"You are too desponding, Aunt Rachel."
+
+"Enough to make me so. If you had only taken my advice, we shouldn't
+have come to this."
+
+"I don't know what advice you refer to, Rachel."
+
+"No, I don't expect you do. You didn't pay no attention to it.
+That's the reason."
+
+"But if you'll repeat it, perhaps we can profit by it yet," said
+Mrs. Crump, with imperturbable good humor.
+
+"I told you you ought to be layin' up something ag'in a rainy day.
+But that's always the way. Folks think when times is good it's
+always a goin' to be so, but I knew better."
+
+"I don't see how we could have been more economical," said Mrs.
+Crump, mildly.
+
+"There's a hundred ways. Poor folks like us ought not to expect to
+have meat so often. It's frightful to think what the butcher's bill
+must have been the last six months."
+
+Inconsistent Rachel! Only the day before she had made herself very
+uncomfortable because there was no meat for dinner, and said she
+couldn't live without it. Mrs. Crump might have reminded her of
+this, but the good woman was too kind to make the retort. She
+contented herself with saying that they must try to do better in
+future.
+
+"That's always the way," muttered Rachel. "Shut the stable door when
+the horse is stolen. Folks never learn from experience till it's too
+late to be of any use. I don't see what the world was made for, for
+my part. Everything goes topsy-turvy, and all sorts of ways except
+the right way. I sometimes think 'taint much use livin'."
+
+"Oh, you'll feel better by and by, Rachel. Hark, there's Jack, isn't
+it?"
+
+"Anybody might know by the noise who it is," pursued Rachel, in the
+same general tone that had marked her conversation hitherto. "He
+always comes _stomping_ along as if he was paid for makin' a noise.
+Anybody ought to have a cast-iron head that lives anywhere in his
+hearing."
+
+Her cheerful remarks were here broken in upon by the sudden entrance
+of Jack, who, in his eagerness, slammed the door behind him,
+unheeding his mother's quiet admonition not to make a noise.
+
+"Look there!" said he, displaying a quarter of a dollar.
+
+"How did you get it?" asked his mother.
+
+"Holding horses," answered Jack.
+
+"Here, take it, mother. I warrant you'll find a use for it."
+
+"It comes in good time," said Mrs. Crump. "We're out of flour, and I
+had no money to buy any. Before you take off your boots, Jack, why
+can't you run over to the store, and get half a dozen pounds?"
+
+"You see the Lord hasn't quite forgotten us," remarked his mother,
+as Jack started on his errand.
+
+"What's a quarter of a dollar?" said Rachel, gloomily. "Will it
+carry us through the winter?"
+
+"It will carry us through to-night, and perhaps Timothy will have
+work to-morrow. Hark, that's his step."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING.
+
+
+
+
+
+AT this moment the outer door opened, and Timothy Crump entered, not
+with the quick elastic step of one who brings good tidings, but
+slowly and deliberately, with a quiet gravity of demeanor, in which
+his wife could read only too well that he had failed in his efforts
+to procure work.
+
+His wife, reading all these things in his manner, had the delicacy
+to forbear intruding upon him questions to which she saw that he
+could give no satisfactory answers.
+
+Not so Aunt Rachel.
+
+"I needn't ask," she began, "whether you got work, Timothy. I knew
+beforehand you wouldn't. There ain't no use in tryin'. The times is
+awful dull, and, mark my words, they'll be wuss before they're
+better. We mayn't live to see 'em. I don't expect we shall. Folks
+can't live without money, and when that's gone we shall have to
+starve."
+
+"Not so bad as that, Rachel," said the cooper, trying to look
+cheerful; "don't talk about starving till the time comes. Anyhow,"
+glancing at the table on which was spread a good plain meal, "we
+needn't talk about starving till to-morrow, with that before us.
+Where's Jack?"
+
+"Gone after some flour," replied his wife.
+
+"On credit?" asked the cooper.
+
+"No, he's got the money to pay for a few pounds," said Mrs. Crump,
+smiling, with an air of mystery.
+
+"Where did it come from?" asked Timothy, who was puzzled, as his
+wife anticipated. "I didn't know you had any money in the house."
+
+"No more we had, but he earned it himself, holding horses, this
+afternoon."
+
+"Come, that's good," said the cooper, cheerfully, "We ain't so bad
+off as we might be, you see, Rachel."
+
+The latter shook her head with the air of a martyr.
+
+At this moment Jack returned, and the family sat down to supper.
+
+"You haven't told us," said Mrs. Crump, seeing her husband's
+cheerfulness in a measure restored, "what Mr. Blodgett said about
+the chances for employment."
+
+"Not much that was encouraging," answered Timothy. "He isn't at all
+sure how soon it will be best to commence work; perhaps not before
+spring."
+
+"Didn't I tell you so?" commented Rachel, with sepulchral sadness.
+
+Even Mr. Crump could not help looking sober.
+
+"I suppose, Timothy, you haven't formed any plans," she said.
+
+"No, I haven't had time. I must try to get something else to do."
+
+"What, for instance?"
+
+"Anything by which I can earn a little, I don't care if it's only
+sawing wood. We shall have to get along as economically as we can;
+cut our coat according to our cloth."
+
+"Oh, you'll be able to earn something, and we can live _very_
+plain," said Mrs. Crump, affecting a cheerfulness greater than she
+felt.
+
+"Pity you hadn't done it sooner," was the comforting suggestion of
+Rachel.
+
+"Mustn't cry over spilt milk," said the cooper, good-humoredly.
+"Perhaps we might have lived a _leetle_ more economically, but I
+don't think we've been extravagant."
+
+"Besides, I can earn something, father," said Jack, hopefully. "You
+know I did this afternoon."
+
+"So you can," said Mrs. Crump, brightly.
+
+"There ain't horses to hold every day," said Rachel, apparently
+fearing that the family might become too cheerful, when, like
+herself, it was their duty to become profoundly gloomy.
+
+"You're always trying' to discourage people," said Jack,
+discontentedly.
+
+Rachel took instant umbrage at these words.
+
+"I'm sure," said she; mournfully, "I don't want to make you unhappy.
+If you can find anything to be cheerful about when you're on the
+verge of starvation, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, and not mind
+me. I'm a poor dependent creetur, and I feel to know I'm a burden."
+
+"Now, Rachel, that's all foolishness," said Uncle Tim. "You don't
+feel anything of the kind."
+
+"Perhaps others can tell how I feel, better than I can myself,"
+answered his sister, knitting rapidly. "If it hadn't been for me, I
+know you'd have been able to lay up money, and have something to
+carry you through the winter. It's hard to be a burden upon your
+relations, and bring a brother's family to poverty."
+
+"Don't talk of being a burden, Rachel," said Mrs. Crump. "You've
+been a great help to me in many ways. That pair of stockings now
+you're knitting for Jack--that's a help, for I couldn't have got
+time for them myself."
+
+"I don't expect," said Aunt Rachel, in the same sunny manner, "that
+I shall be able to do it long. From the pains I have in my hands
+sometimes, I expect I'm going to lose the use of 'em soon, and be as
+useless as old Mrs. Sprague, who for the last ten years of her life
+had to sit with her hands folded in her lap. But I wouldn't stay to
+be a burden. I'd go to the poor-house first, but perhaps," with the
+look of a martyr, "they wouldn't want me there, because I should be
+discouragin' 'em too much."
+
+Poor Jack, who had so unwittingly raised this storm, winced under
+the words, which he knew were directed at him.
+
+"Then why," said he, half in extenuation, "why don't you try to look
+pleasant and cheerful? Why won't you be jolly, as Tom Piper's aunt
+is?"
+
+"I dare say I ain't pleasant," said Aunt Rachel, "as my own nephew
+tells me so. There is some folks that can be cheerful when their
+house is a burnin' down before their eyes, and I've heard of one
+young man that laughed at his aunt's funeral," directing a severe
+glance at Jack; "but I'm not one of that kind. I think, with the
+Scriptures, that there's a time to weep."
+
+"Doesn't it say there's a time to laugh, also?" asked Mrs. Crump.
+
+"When I see anything to laugh about, I'm ready to laugh," said Aunt
+Rachel; "but human nature ain't to be forced. I can't see anything
+to laugh at now, and perhaps you won't by and by."
+
+It was evidently of no use to attempt a confutation of this, and the
+subject dropped.
+
+The tea-things were cleared away by Mrs. Crump, who afterwards sat
+down to her sewing. Aunt Rachel continued to knit in grim silence,
+while Jack seated himself on a three-legged stool near his aunt, and
+began to whittle out a boat after a model lent him by Tom Piper, a
+young gentleman whose aunt has already been referred to.
+
+The cooper took out his spectacles, wiped them carefully with his
+handkerchief, and as carefully adjusted them to his nose. He then
+took down from the mantel-piece one of the few books belonging to
+his library,--"Captain Cook's Travels,"--and began to read, for the
+tenth time it might be, the record of the gallant sailor's
+circumnavigations.
+
+The plain little room presented a picture of peaceful tranquillity,
+but it proved to be only the calm which precedes a storm.
+
+The storm in question, I regret to say, was brought about by the
+luckless Jack. As has been said, he was engaged in constructing a
+boat, the particular operation he was now intent upon being the
+excavation or hollowing out. Now three-legged stools are not the
+most secure seats in the world. That, I think, no one can doubt who
+has any practical acquaintance with them. Jack was working quite
+vigorously, the block from which the boat was to be fashioned being
+held firmly between his knees. His knife having got wedged in the
+wood, he made an unusual effort to draw it out, in which he lost his
+balance, and disturbed the equilibrium of his stool, which, with his
+load, tumbled over backwards. Now it very unfortunately happened
+that Aunt Rachel sat close behind, and the treacherous stool came
+down with considerable force upon her foot.
+
+A piercing shriek was heard, and Aunt Rachel, lifting her foot,
+clung to it convulsively, while an expression of pain distorted her
+features.
+
+At the sound, the cooper hastily removed his spectacles, and letting
+"Captain Cook" fall to the floor, started up in great dismay--Mrs.
+Crump likewise dropped her sewing, and jumped to her feet in alarm.
+
+It did not take long to see how matters stood.
+
+"Hurt ye much, Rachel?" inquired Timothy.
+
+"It's about killed me," groaned the afflicted maiden. "Oh, I shall
+have to have my foot cut off, or be a cripple anyway." Then turning
+upon Jack, fiercely, "you careless, wicked, ungrateful boy, that
+I've been wearin' myself out knittin' for. I'm almost sure you did
+it a purpose. You won't be satisfied till you've got me out of the
+world, and then--then, perhaps----" here Rachel began to whimper,
+"perhaps you'll get Tom Piper's aunt to knit your stockings."
+
+"I didn't mean to, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, penitently, eyeing his
+aunt, who was rocking to and fro in her chair. "Besides, I hurt
+myself like thunder," rubbing vigorously the lower part of the
+dorsal-region.
+
+"Served you right," said his aunt, still clasping her foot.
+
+"Sha'n't I get something for you to put on it?" asked Mrs. Crump of
+(sic) her-sister-in-law.
+
+This Rachel steadily refused, and after a few more postures, (sic)
+indicatiing a great amount of anguish, limped out of the room, and
+ascended the stairs to her own apartment.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE LANDLORD'S VISIT.
+
+
+
+
+
+SOON after Rachel's departure Jack, also, was seized with a sleepy
+fit, and postponing the construction of his boat to a more favorable
+opportunity, took a candle and followed his aunt's example.
+
+The cooper and his wife were now left alone.
+
+"Now that Rachel and Jack have gone to bed, Mary," he commenced,
+hesitatingly, "I don't mind saying that I am a little troubled in
+mind about one thing."
+
+"What's that?" asked Mrs. Crump, anxiously.
+
+"It's just this, I don't anticipate being stinted for food. I know
+we shall get along some way; but there's another expense which I am
+afraid of."
+
+"Is it the rent?" inquired his wife, apprehensively.
+
+"That's it. The quarter's rent, twenty dollars, comes due to-morrow,
+and I've got less than a dollar to meet it."
+
+"Won't Mr. Colman wait?"
+
+"I'm afraid not. You know what sort of a man he is, Mary. There
+ain't much feeling about him. He cares more for money than anything
+else."
+
+"Perhaps you are doing him injustice."
+
+"I am afraid not. Did you never hear how he treated the Underhills?"
+
+"How was it?"
+
+"Underhill was laid up with a rheumatic fever for three months. The
+consequence was, that, when quarter-day came round, he was in about
+the same situation with ourselves,--a little worse even, for his
+wife was sick, also. But though Colman was aware of the
+circumstances, he had no pity; but turned them out without
+ceremony."
+
+"Is it possible?" asked Mrs. Crump, uneasily.
+
+"And there's no reason for his being more lenient with us. I can't
+but feel anxious about to-morrow, Mary."
+
+At this moment, verifying an old adage which will perhaps occur to
+the reader, who should knock but Mr. Colman himself?
+
+Both the cooper and his wife had an instinctive foreboding as to the
+meaning of his visit.
+
+He came in, rubbing his hands in a social way, as was his custom. No
+one, to look at him, would have suspected the hardness of heart that
+lay veiled under his velvety softness of manner.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Crump," said he, affably, "I trust you and your
+worthy wife are in good health."
+
+"That blessing, at least, is continued to us," said the cooper,
+gravely.
+
+"And how comfortable you're looking too, eh! It makes an old
+bachelor, like me, feel lonesome when he contrasts his own solitary
+room with such a scene of comfort as this. You've got a comfortable
+home, and dog-cheap, too. All my other tenants are grumbling to
+think you don't have to pay any more for such superior
+accommodations. I've about made up my mind that I must ask you
+twenty-five dollars a quarter, hereafter."
+
+All this was said very pleasantly, but the pill was none the less
+bitter.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Colman," remarked the cooper soberly, "you have
+chosen rather a singular time for raising the rent."
+
+"Why singular, my good sir?" inquired the landlord, urbanely.
+
+"You know of course, that this is a time of general business
+depression; my own trade in particular has suffered greatly. For a
+month past, I have not been able to find any work."
+
+Colman's face lost something of its graciousness.
+
+"And I fear I sha'n't be able to pay my quarter's rent to-morrow."
+
+"Indeed!" said the landlord coldly. "Perhaps you can make it up
+within two or three dollars?"
+
+"I can't pay a dollar towards it," said the cooper. "It's the first
+time, in five years that I've lived here, that this thing has
+happened to me. I've always been prompt before."
+
+"You should have economized as you found times growing harder," said
+Colman, harshly. "It is hardly honest to live in a house when you
+know you can't pay the rent."
+
+"You sha'n't lose it Mr. Colman," said the cooper, earnestly. "No
+one ever yet lost anything by me. Only give me time, and I will pay
+you all."
+
+The landlord shook his head.
+
+"You ought to cut your coat according to your cloth," he responded.
+"Much as it will go against my feelings, under the circumstances I
+am compelled by a prudent regard to my own interests to warn you
+that, in case your rent is not ready to-morrow, I shall be obliged
+to trouble you to find another tenement; and furthermore, the rent
+of this will be raised five dollars a quarter."
+
+"I can't pay it, Mr. Colman," said the cooper; "I may as well say
+that now; and it's no use my agreeing to pay more rent. I pay all I
+can afford now."
+
+"Very well, you know the alternative. But it is a disagreeable
+subject. We won't talk of it now; I shall be round to-morrow
+morning. How's your excellent sister; as cheerful as ever?"
+
+"Quite as much so as usual," answered the cooper, dryly.
+
+"But there's one favor I should like to ask, if you will allow us to
+remain here a few days till I can look about me a little."
+
+"I would with the greatest pleasure in the world," was the reply,
+"but there's another family very anxious to take the house, and they
+wish to come in immediately. Therefore I shall be obliged to ask you
+to move out to-morrow. In fact that is the very thing I came here
+this evening to speak about, as I thought you might not wish to pay
+the increased rent."
+
+"We are much obliged to you," said the cooper, with a tinge of
+bitterness unusual to him. "If we are to be turned out of doors, it
+is pleasant to have a few hours' notice of it."
+
+"Turned out of doors, my good friend! What disagreeable expressions
+you employ! It is merely a matter of business. I have an article to
+dispose of. There are two bidders; yourself and another person. The
+latter is willing to pay a larger sum. Of course I give him the
+preference. Don't you see how it is?"
+
+"I believe I do," replied the cooper. "Of course, it's a regular
+proceeding; but you must excuse me if I think of it in another
+light, when I reflect that to-morrow at this time my family and
+myself may be without a shelter."
+
+"My dear sir, positively you are looking on the dark side of things.
+It is actually sinful to distrust Providence as you seem to do.
+You're a little disappointed, that's all. Just take to-night to
+sleep on it, and I've no doubt you'll think better of it and of me.
+But positively I have stayed longer than I intended. Good night, my
+friends. I'll look in upon you in the morning. And by the by, as it
+is so near the time, allow me to wish you a Happy New Year."
+
+The door closed upon the landlord, leaving behind two anxious
+hearts.
+
+"It looks well in him to wish that," said the cooper, gloomily. "A
+great deal he is doing to make it so. I don't know how it seems to
+others, but for my part I never say them words to any one unless I
+really wish 'em well, and am willing to do something to make 'em so.
+I should feel as if I was a hypocrite if I acted anyways different."
+
+Mary did not respond to this. In her own gentle heart she could not
+help feeling a silent repugnance, mingled, it may be, with a shade
+of contempt, for the man who had just left them. It was an
+uncomfortable feeling, and she strove to get rid of it."
+
+"Is there any tenement vacant in this neighborhood?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, there's the one at the corner, belonging to Mr. Harrison."
+
+"It is a better one than this."
+
+"Yes, but Harrison only asks the same that we have been paying. He
+is not so exorbitant as Colman."
+
+"Couldn't we get that?"
+
+"I am afraid, if he knew that we had failed to pay our rent here, he
+would object."
+
+"But he knows you are honest, and that nothing but the hard times
+would have brought you to such a pass."
+
+"It may be, Mary. At any rate you have lightened my heart a little.
+I feel as if there was some hope left."
+
+"We ought always to feel so, Timothy. There was one thing that Mr.
+Colman said that didn't sound so well, coming from his lips; but
+it's true, for all that."
+
+"What do you mean, Mary?"
+
+"I mean that about not distrusting Providence. Many a time have I
+been comforted by reading the verse, "Never have I seen the
+righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread. "As long as we try to
+do what is right, Timothy, God will not suffer us to want."
+
+"You are right, Mary. He is our ever-present help in time of need.
+Let us put away all anxious cares, fully confiding in his gracious
+promises."
+
+They retired to rest thoughtfully, but not sadly.
+
+The fire upon the hearth flickered, and died out at length. The last
+sands of the old year were running out, and the new morning ushered
+in its successor.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE NEW YEAR'S PRESENT.
+
+
+
+
+
+"HAPPY New Year!" was Jack's salutation to Aunt Rachel, as, with an
+unhappy expression of countenance, she entered the sitting-room.
+
+"Happy, indeed!" she repeated, dismally. "There's great chance of
+its being so, I should think. We don't any of us know what the year
+may bring forth. We may all be dead before the next New Year."
+
+"If that's the case, said Jack, "we'll be jolly as long as it
+lasts."
+
+"I don't know what you mean by such a vulgar word," said Aunt
+Rachel, disdainfully. "I've heard of drunkards and such kind of
+people being jolly; but, thank Providence, I haven't got to that
+yet."
+
+"If that was the only way to be jolly," said Jack, stoutly, "then
+I'd be a drunkard; I wouldn't carry round such a long face as you
+do, Aunt Rachel, for any money."
+
+"It's enough to make all of us have long faces, when you are brazen
+enough to own that you mean to be a drunkard."
+
+"I didn't say any such thing," said Jack, indignantly.
+
+"Perhaps I have ears," remarked Aunt Rachel, sententiously, "and
+perhaps I have not. It's a new thing for a nephew to tell his aunt
+that she lies. They didn't use to allow such things when I was
+young.--But the world's going to rack and ruin, and I shouldn't much
+wonder if the people are right that says it's comin' to an end."
+
+Here Mrs. Crump happily interposed, by asking Jack to go round to
+the grocery, in the next street, and buy a pint of milk.
+
+Jack took his cap and started, with alacrity, glad to leave the
+dismal presence of Aunt Rachel.
+
+He had scarcely opened the door when he started back in surprise,
+exclaiming, "By hokey, if there isn't a basket on the steps!"
+
+"A basket!" repeated Mrs. Crump, in surprise. "Can it be a New
+Year's present? Bring it in, Jack."
+
+It was brought in immediately, and the cover being lifted there
+appeared a female child, of apparently a year old. All uttered
+exclamations of surprise, each in itself characteristic.
+
+"What a dear, innocent little thing!" said Mrs. Crump, with true
+maternal instinct.
+
+"Ain't it a pretty 'un?" said Jack, admiringly.
+
+"Poor thing!" said the cooper, compassionately.
+
+"It's a world of iniquity!" remarked Rachel, lifting up her eyes,
+dismally. "There isn't any one you can trust. I didn't think a
+brother of mine would have such a sin brought to his door."
+
+"Good heavens, Rachel!" said the honest cooper, in amazement, "what
+can you mean?"
+
+"It isn't for me to explain," said Rachel, shaking her head; "only
+it's strange that it should have been brought to _this_ house,
+that's all I say."
+
+"Perhaps it was meant for you, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, with
+thoughtless fun.
+
+"Me!" exclaimed Rachel, rising to her feet, while her face betrayed
+the utmost horror at the suggestion. She fell back in her seat, and
+made a violent effort to faint.
+
+"What have I said?" asked Jack, a little frightened at the effect of
+his words. "Aunt Rachel takes one up so."
+
+"He didn't mean anything," said Mrs. Crump. "How could you suspect
+such a thing? But here's a letter. It looks as if there was
+something in it. Here, Timothy, it is directed to you."
+
+Mr. Cooper opened the letter, and read as follows:--
+
+"For reasons which it is unnecessary to state, the guardians of this
+child find it expedient to (sic) intrust it to others to be brought
+up. The good opinion which they have formed of you, has led them to
+select you for that charge. No further explanation is necessary,
+except that it is by no means their object to make this a service of
+charity. They therefore (sic) inclose a certificate of deposits on
+the Broadway Bank, of three hundred dollars, the same having been
+made in your name. Each year, while the child remains in your
+charge, the same sum will in like manner be placed to your credit at
+the same bank It may be as well to state, farther, that all attempts
+to fathom whatever of mystery may attach to this affair, will prove
+useless."
+
+This letter was read in silent amazement.
+
+The certificate of deposits, which had fallen to the floor, was
+handed to Timothy by his wife.
+
+Amazement was followed by a feeling of gratitude and relief.
+
+"What could be more fortunate?" exclaimed Mrs. Crump. "Surely,
+Timothy, our faith has been rewarded."
+
+"God has listened to our cry," said the cooper, devoutly; "and, in
+the hour of our need, He has remembered us."
+
+"Isn't it prime?" said Jack, gleefully; "three hundred dollars!
+Ain't we rich, Aunt Rachel?"
+
+"Like as not," observed Rachel, "the certificate isn't genuine. It
+doesn't look natural it should be. I've heard of counterfeits
+before. I shouldn't be surprised at all if Timothy got taken up for
+presenting it."
+
+"I'll risk that," said Mr. Crump, who did not look very much
+depressed by this suggestion.
+
+"Now you'll be able to pay the rent, Timothy," said Mrs. Crump,
+cheerfully.
+
+"Yes; and it's the last quarter I shall pay to Mr. Colman, if I can
+help it."
+
+"Why, where are you going?" inquired Jack.
+
+"To the corner house belonging to Mr. Harrison, that is, if it is
+not already engaged. I think I will go and see about it at once. If
+Mr. Colman should come in while I am gone, tell him I will be back
+directly; I don't wish you to tell him of the change in our
+circumstances."
+
+The cooper found Mr. Harrison at home.
+
+"I called to inquire," commenced the cooper, "whether you had let
+that house of yours on the corner of the street."
+
+"Not as yet," was the reply.
+
+"What rent do you ask?"
+
+"Twenty dollars a quarter," said Mr. Harrison; "that I consider
+reasonable."
+
+"It is satisfactory to me," was the cooper's reply, "and, if you
+have no objections to me as a tenant, I will engage it at once."
+
+"Far from having any objections, Mr. Crump," was the courteous
+reply, "I shall be glad to secure so good a tenant. Will you go over
+and look at the house?"
+
+"Not now, sir; I am somewhat in haste. When can we move in?"
+
+"To-day, if you like."
+
+His errand satisfactorily accomplished, the cooper returned home.
+Meanwhile the landlord had called.
+
+He was a little surprised to find that Mrs. Crump, instead of
+looking depressed, looked cheerful, rather than otherwise.
+
+"I was not aware you had a child so young," he remarked, looking at
+the baby.
+
+"It isn't mine," said Mrs. Crump, briefly.
+
+"The child of a neighbor, I suppose," thought Colman.
+
+Meanwhile he scrutinized closely, without appearing to do so, the
+furniture in the room.
+
+At this point Mr. Crump opened the outer door.
+
+"Good-morning," said Colman, affably. "A fine morning."
+
+"Quite so," answered his tenant, shortly.
+
+"I have called, Mr. Crump, to know if you are ready with your
+quarter's rent."
+
+"I think I told you, last night, how I was situated. Of course I am
+sorry----"
+
+"So am I," said the landlord, "for I may be obliged to have recourse
+to unpleasant measures."
+
+"You mean that we must leave the house!"
+
+"Of course, you cannot expect to remain in it if you are unable to
+pay the rent. Of course," added Colman, making an inventory with his
+eyes, of the furniture, "you will leave behind a sufficient amount
+of furniture to cover your bill----"
+
+"Surely, you would not deprive us of our furniture!"
+
+"Is there any hardship in requiring payment of honest debts?"
+
+"There are cases of that description. However, I will not put you to
+that trouble. I am ready to pay you your dues."
+
+"You have the money?" said Colman, hastily.
+
+"I have, and something over; as you will see by this document. Can
+you give me the two hundred and eighty dollars over?"
+
+It would be difficult to picture the amazement of Colman. "Surely,
+you told me a different story last night," he said.
+
+"Last night and this morning are different times. Then I could not
+pay you; now, luckily, I am able. If you cannot change this amount,
+and will accompany me to the bank, I will place the money in your
+hands."
+
+"My dear sir, I am not at all in haste," said the landlord, with a
+return of his former affability. "Any time within a week will do. I
+hope, by the way, you will continue to occupy this house."
+
+"As I have already engaged Mr. Harrison's house, at the corner of
+the street, I shall be unable to remain. Besides, I do not want to
+interfere with the family who are so desirous of moving in."
+
+Mr. Colman was silenced. He regretted, too late, the hasty course
+which had lost him a good tenant. The family referred to had no
+existence; and, it may be remarked, the house remained vacant for
+several months, when he was glad to rent it at the old price.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A LUCKY RESCUE.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE opportune arrival of the child inaugurated a season of
+comparative prosperity in the home of Timothy Crump. To persons
+accustomed to live in their frugal way, three hundred dollars seemed
+a fortune. Nor, as might have happened in some cases, did this
+unexpected windfall tempt the cooper or his wife to extravagances.
+
+"Let us save something against a rainy day," said Mrs. Crump.
+
+"We can, if I get work soon," answered her husband. "This little one
+will add but little to our expenses, and there is no reason why we
+should not save up at least half of it."
+
+"There's no knowing when you will get work, Timothy," said Rachel,
+in her usual cheerful way; "it isn't well to crow before you're out
+of the woods."
+
+"Very true, Rachel. It isn't your failing to look too much at the
+sunny side of the picture."
+
+"I'm ready to look at it when I can see it anywhere," said his
+sister, in the same enlivening way.
+
+"Don't you see it in the unexpected good fortune which came with
+this child?" asked Timothy.
+
+"I've no doubt it seems bright enough, now," said Rachel, gloomily,
+"but a young child's a great deal of trouble."
+
+"Do you speak from experience, Aunt Rachel?" inquired Jack,
+demurely.
+
+"Yes;" said his aunt, slowly; "if all babies were as cross as you
+were when you were an infant, three hundred dollars wouldn't begin
+to pay for the trouble of having one round."
+
+Mr. Crump and his wife laughed at this sally at Jack's expense, but
+the latter had his wits about him sufficiently to answer, "I've
+always heard, Aunt Rachel, that the crosser a child is the
+pleasanter he will grow up. What a very pleasant baby you must have
+been!"
+
+"Jack!" said his mother, reprovingly; but his father, who looked
+upon it as a good joke, remarked, good-humoredly, "He's got you
+there, Rachel."
+
+The latter, however, took it as a serious matter, and observed that,
+when she was young, children were not allowed to speak so to their
+elders. "But, I don't know as I can blame 'em much," she continued,
+wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron, "when their own
+parents encourage 'em in it."
+
+Timothy was warned, by experience, that silence was his best (sic)
+defence. Since anything he might say would only be likely to make
+matters worse.
+
+Aunt Rachel sank into a fit of deep despondency, and did not say
+another word till dinner time. She sat down to the table with a
+profound sigh, as if there was little in life worth living for.
+Notwithstanding this, it was observed that she had a good appetite.
+Indeed, Rachel seemed to thrive on her gloomy views of life and
+human nature. She was, it must be acknowledged, perfectly consistent
+in all her conduct, as far as this peculiarity was concerned.
+Whenever she took up a newspaper, she always looked first to the
+space appropriated to deaths, and next in order to the column of
+accidents, casualties, etc., and her spirits were visibly
+exhilarated when she encountered a familiar name in either list.
+
+Mr. Crump continued to look out for work, but it was with a more
+cheerful spirit. He did not now feel as if the comfort of his family
+depended absolutely upon his immediate success. Used economically,
+the money he had by him would last nine months, and during that time
+it was impossible that he should not find something to do. It was
+this sense of security--of possessing something upon which he could
+fall back--that enabled him to keep up good heart. It is too
+generally the case that people are content to live as if they were
+sure of constantly retaining their health and never losing their
+employment. When a reverse does come they are at once plunged into
+discouragement, and feel that something must be done immediately.
+There is only one way to fend off such an embarrassment, and that is
+to resolve, whatever may be the amount of the income, to lay aside
+some part to serve as a reliance in time of trouble. A little
+economy--though it involves privation--will be well repaid by the
+feeling of security thus engendered.
+
+Mr. Crump was not compelled to remain inactive as long as he feared.
+Not that his line of business revived,--that still remained
+depressed,--but another path was opened to him for a time.
+
+Returning home late one evening, the cooper saw a man steal out from
+a doorway, and assault a gentleman whose dress and general
+appearance indicated probable wealth. Seizing him by the throat, the
+villain effectually prevented him from calling the police, and was
+engaged in rifling his pockets when the cooper arrived at the scene.
+A sudden blow on the side of the head admonished the robber that he
+had more than one to deal with.
+
+"Leave this man instantly," said the cooper, sternly, "or I will
+deliver you into the hands of the police."
+
+The villain hesitated, but fear prevailed, and springing to his
+feet, he hastily made off under cover of the darkness.
+
+"I hope you have received no injury," said Timothy, respectfully,
+turning towards the stranger he had rescued.
+
+"No, my worthy friend, thanks to your timely assistance. The rascal
+nearly succeeded, however."
+
+"I hope you have lost nothing, sir."
+
+"Nothing, fortunately. You can form an idea of the value of your
+interference, when I say that I have fifteen hundred dollars with
+me, all of which I should undoubtedly have lost."
+
+"I am glad," said the cooper, "that I was able to do you such
+essential service. It was by the merest chance that I came this
+way."
+
+"Will you add to my indebtedness by accompanying me with that trusty
+club of yours? I have some little distance yet to go, and the amount
+of money I have with me makes me feel desirous of taking every
+possible precaution."
+
+"Willingly," said the cooper.
+
+"But I am forgetting," said the gentleman, "that you yourself will
+be obliged to return alone."
+
+"I do not carry enough money to make me fear an attack," said Mr.
+Crump, laughing. "Money brings care I have always heard, and now I
+realize it."
+
+"Yet most people are willing to take their chance of that," said the
+merchant.
+
+"You are right, sir, nor can I call myself an exception. Still I
+should be satisfied with the certainty of constant employment."
+
+"I hope you have that, at least."
+
+"I have had until recently."
+
+"Then, at present, you are unemployed?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What is your business?"
+
+"That of a cooper."
+
+"I must see what I can do for you. Can you call at my office
+to-morrow, say at twelve o'clock?"
+
+"I shall be glad to do so, sir."
+
+"I believe I have a card with me. Yes, here is one. And this is my
+house. Thank you for your company, my good friend. I shall see you
+to-morrow."
+
+They stood before a handsome dwelling-house, from whose windows,
+draped by heavy crimson curtains, a soft light proceeded. The cooper
+could hear the ringing of childish voices welcoming home their
+father, whose life, unknown to them, had been in such peril, and he
+could not but be grateful to Providence that he had been the means
+of frustrating the designs of the villain who would have robbed him,
+and perhaps done him farther injury.
+
+He determined to say nothing to his wife of the night's adventure
+until after his meeting appointed for the next day. Then if any
+advantage accrued to him from it, he would tell the whole at once.
+
+When he reached home, Mrs. Crump was sewing beside the fire. Aunt
+Rachel sat with her hands folded in her lap, with an air of
+martyr-like resignation to the woes of life.
+
+"I've brought you home a paper, Aunt Rachel," said the cooper,
+cheerfully. "You may find something interesting in it."
+
+"I sha'n't be able to read it this evening," said Rachel,
+mournfully. "My eyes have troubled me lately. I feel that it is more
+than probable that I am growing blind. But I trust I shall not live
+to be a burden to you. Your prospects are dark enough without that."
+
+"Don't trouble yourself with any fears of that sort, Rachel," said
+the cooper, cheerily. "I think I know what will enable you to use
+your eyes as well as ever."
+
+"What?" asked Rachel, with melancholy curiosity.
+
+"A pair of spectacles," said her brother, incautiously.
+
+"Spectacles!" retorted Rachel, indignantly. "It will be a good many
+years before I am old enough to wear spectacles. I didn't expect to
+be insulted by my own brother. But it's one of my trials."
+
+"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Rachel," said the cooper,
+perplexed.
+
+"Good night," said Rachel, rising and taking a small lamp from the
+table.
+
+"Come, Rachel, don't go yet. It is early."
+
+"After what you have said to me, Timothy, my self-respect will not
+permit me to stay."
+
+Rachel swept out of the room with something more than her customary
+melancholy.
+
+"I wish Rachel war'n't quite so contrary," said the cooper. "She
+turns upon a body so sudden, it's hard to know how to take her.
+How's the little girl, Mary?"
+
+"She's been asleep ever since six o'clock."
+
+"I hope you don't find her very much trouble. That all comes upon
+you, while we have the benefit of the money."
+
+"I don't think of that, Timothy. She is a sweet child, and I love
+her almost as much as if she were my own. As for Jack, he perfectly
+idolizes her."
+
+"And how does Aunt Rachel look upon her?"
+
+"I am afraid she will never be a favorite with Rachel."
+
+"Rachel never took to children much. It isn't her way. Now, Mary,
+while you are sewing, I will read you the news."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+WHAT THE ENVELOPE CONTAINED.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE card which had been handed to Timothy Crump contained the name
+of Thomas Merriam,----Wall Street. Punctually at twelve, the cooper
+reported himself at the counting-room, and received a cordial
+welcome from the merchant.
+
+"I am glad to see you," he said. "I will come to business at once,
+as I am particularly engaged this morning. Is there any way in which
+I can serve you?"
+
+"Not unless you can procure me a situation, sir."
+
+"I think you told me you were a cooper."
+
+"Yes sir."
+
+"Does this yield you a good support?"
+
+"In good times it pays me two dollars a day. Lately it has been
+depressed, and for a time paid me but a dollar and a half."
+
+"When do you anticipate its revival?"
+
+"That is uncertain. It may be some months first."
+
+"And, in the mean time, you are willing to undertake some other
+employment?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I have no objection to any honest employment."
+
+Mr. Merriam reflected a moment.
+
+"Just at present," he said, "I have nothing to offer except the post
+of porter. If that will suit you, you can enter upon the duties
+to-morrow."
+
+"I shall be very glad to take it, sir. Anything is better than
+idleness."
+
+"Your compensation shall be the same that you have been accustomed
+to earn by your trade,--two dollars a day."
+
+"I only received that in the best times," said Timothy,
+conscientiously.
+
+"Your services will be worth it. I will expect you, then, to-morrow
+morning at eight. You are married, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I am blessed with a good wife."
+
+"I am glad of that. Stay a moment."
+
+The merchant went to his desk, and presently returned with a scaled
+envelope.
+
+"Give that to your wife," he said.
+
+The interview terminated, and the cooper went home, quite elated by
+his success. His present engagement would enable him to bridge over
+the dull time, and save him from incurring debt, of which he had a
+just horror.
+
+"Just in time," said Mrs. Crump. "We've got an apple-pudding
+to-day."
+
+"You haven't forgotten what I like, Mary."
+
+"There's no knowing how long you will be able to afford puddings,"
+said Aunt Rachel. "To my mind it's extravagant to have meat and
+pudding both, when a month hence you may be in the poor-house."
+
+"Then," said Jack, "I wouldn't eat any."
+
+"Oh, if you grudge me the little I eat," said his aunt, in severe
+sorrow, "I will go without."
+
+"Tut, Rachel, nobody grudges you anything here," said her brother,
+"and as to the poor-house, I've got some good news to tell you that
+will put that thought out of your heads."
+
+"What is it?" asked Mrs. Crump, looking up brightly.
+
+"I have found employment."
+
+"Not at your trade?"
+
+"No, but at something else, which will pay equally well, till trade
+revives."
+
+Here he told the story of the chance by which he was enabled to
+serve Mr. Merriam, and of the engagement to which it had led.
+
+"You are, indeed, fortunate," said Mrs. Crump. "Two dollars a day,
+and we've got nearly the whole of the money that came with this dear
+child. How rich we shall be!"
+
+"Well, Rachel, where are your congratulations?" asked the cooper of
+his sister, who, in subdued sorrow, was eating her second slice of
+pudding.
+
+"I don't see anything so very fortunate in being engaged as a
+porter," said Rachel, lugubriously. "I heard of a porter, once, who
+had a great box fall upon him and crush him; and another, who
+committed suicide."
+
+The cooper laughed.
+
+"So, Rachel, you conclude that one or the other is the inevitable
+lot of all who are engaged in this business."
+
+"It is always well to be prepared for the worst," said Rachel,
+oracularly.
+
+"But not to be always looking for it," said her brother.
+
+"It'll come, whether you look for it or not," returned her sister,
+sententiously.
+
+"Then, suppose we spend no thoughts upon it, since, according to
+your admission, it's sure to come either way."
+
+Rachel pursued her knitting, in severe melancholy.
+
+"Won't you have another piece of pudding, Timothy?" asked Mrs.
+Crump.
+
+"I don't care if I do, Mary, it's so good," said the cooper, passing
+his plate. "Seems to me it's the best pudding you ever made."
+
+"You've got a good appetite, that is all," said Mrs. Crump,
+modestly.
+
+"By the way, Mary," said the cooper, with a sudden thought, "I quite
+forgot that I have something for you."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Yes, from Mr. Merriam."
+
+"But he don't know me," said Mrs. Crump, in surprise.
+
+"At any rate, he asked me if I were married, and then handed me this
+envelope for you. I am not quite sure whether I ought to allow
+gentlemen to write letters to my wife."
+
+Mrs. Crump opened the envelope with considerable curiosity, and
+uttered an exclamation of surprise, as a bank-note fluttered to the
+carpet.
+
+"By gracious, mother," said Jack, springing to get it, "you're in
+luck. It's a hundred dollar bill."
+
+"So it is, I declare," said Mrs. Crump, joyfully. "But, Timothy, it
+isn't mine. It belongs to you."
+
+"No, Mary, it shall be yours. I'll put it in the Savings Bank for
+you."
+
+"Merriam's a trump, and no mistake," said Jack. "By the way, father,
+when you see him again, won't you just insinuate that you have a
+son? Ain't we in luck, Aunt Rachel?"
+
+"'Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a
+fall,'" said Rachel.
+
+"I never knew Aunt Rachel to be jolly but once," said Jack, under
+his breath; "and that was at a funeral."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+EIGHT YEARS. IDA'S PROGRESS.
+
+
+
+
+
+EIGHT years slipped by, unmarked by any important event. The Crumps
+were still prosperous in an humble way. The cooper had been able to
+obtain work most of the time, and this, with the annual remittance
+for little Ida, had enabled the family not only to live in comfort,
+but even to save up one hundred and fifty dollars a year. They might
+even have saved more, living as frugally as they were accustomed to
+do, but there was one point upon which none of them would consent to
+be economical. The little Ida must have everything she wanted.
+Timothy brought home daily some little delicacy for her, which none
+of the rest thought of sharing. While Mrs. Crump, far enough from
+vanity, always dressed with exceeding plainness, Ida's attire was
+always rich and tasteful. She would sometimes ask, "Mother, why
+don't you buy yourself some of the pretty things you get for me?"
+
+Mrs. Crump would answer, smiling, "Oh, I'm an old woman, Ida. Plain
+things are best for me."
+
+"No, I'm sure you're not old, mother. You don't wear a cap."
+
+But Mrs. Crump would always playfully evade the child's questions.
+
+Had Ida been an ordinary child, all this petting would have had an
+injurious effect upon her mind. But, fortunately she had that rare
+simplicity, young as she was, which lifted her above the dangers to
+which many might have been subjected. Instead of being made vain,
+she only felt grateful for the many kindnesses bestowed upon her by
+her father and mother and brother Jack, as she was wont to call
+them. Indeed, it had not been thought best to let her know that such
+was not the relation in which they really stood to her.
+
+There was one point, more important than dress, in which Ida
+profited by the indulgence of her friends.
+
+"Wife," the cooper was wont to say, "Ida is a sacred charge in our
+hands. If we allow her to grow up ignorant, or afford her only
+ordinary advantages, we shall not fulfil our duty. We have the
+means, through Providence, to give her some of those advantages
+which she would enjoy if she remained in that sphere to which her
+parents, doubtless, belong. Let no unwise parsimony, on our part,
+withhold them from her."
+
+"You are right, Timothy," said Mrs. Crump; "right, as you always
+are. Follow the dictates of your own heart, and fear not that I
+shall disapprove."
+
+Accordingly Ida was, from the first, sent to a carefully-selected
+private school, where she had the advantage of good associates, and
+where her progress was astonishingly rapid.
+
+She early displayed a remarkable taste for drawing. As soon as this
+was discovered, her foster parents took care that she should have
+abundant opportunity for cultivating it. A private master was
+secured, who gave her daily lessons, and boasted everywhere of his
+charming little pupil, whose progress, as he assured her friends,
+exceeded anything he had ever before known.
+
+Nothing could exceed the cooper's gratification when, on his
+birthday, Ida presented him with a beautifully-drawn sketch of his
+wife's placid and benevolent face.
+
+"When did you do it, Ida?" he asked, after earnest expressions of
+admiration.
+
+"I did it in odd minutes," she said; "in the evening."
+
+"But how could you do it without any one of us knowing what you were
+about?"
+
+"I had a picture before me, and you thought I was copying it, but
+whenever I could do it without being noticed, I looked up at mother
+as she sat at her sewing, and so, after awhile, I made this
+picture."
+
+"And a fine one it is," said Timothy, admiringly.
+
+Mrs. Crump insisted that Ida had flattered her, but this the child
+would not admit. "I couldn't make it look as good as you, mother,"
+she said. "I tried to, but somehow I couldn't succeed as well as I
+wanted to."
+
+"You wouldn't have that difficulty with Aunt Rachel," said Jack,
+roguishly.
+
+Ida, with difficulty, suppressed a laugh.
+
+"I see," said Aunt Rachel, with severe resignation, "that you've
+taken to ridiculing your poor aunt again. But it's what I expect. I
+don't never expect any consideration in this house. I was born to be
+a martyr, and I expect I shall fulfil my destiny. If my own
+relations laugh at me, of course I can't expect anything better from
+other folks. But I sha'n't be long in the way. I've had a cough for
+some time past, and I expect I'm in a consumption."
+
+"You make too much of a little thing, Rachel," said the cooper. "I
+don't think Jack meant anything."
+
+"I'm sure, what I said was complimentary," said Jack.
+
+Rachel shook her head incredulously.
+
+"Yes it was. Ask Ida. Why won't you draw Aunt Rachel, Ida? I think
+she'd make a capital picture."
+
+"So I will," said Ida, hesitatingly, "if she will let me."
+
+"Now, Aunt Rachel, there's a chance for you," said Jack. "I advise
+you to improve it. When it's finished, it can be hung up at the Art
+Rooms, and who knows but you may secure a husband by it?"
+
+"I wouldn't marry," said his aunt, firmly compressing her lips, "not
+if anybody'd go down on their knees to me."
+
+"Now I am sure, Aunt Rachel, that's cruel in you."
+
+"There ain't any man that I'd trust my happiness to."
+
+"She hasn't any to trust," observed Jack, _sotto voce_.
+
+"They're all deceivers," pursued Rachel, "the best of 'em. You can't
+believe what one of 'em says. It would be a great deal better if
+people never married at all."
+
+"Then where would the world be a hundred years hence?" suggested her
+nephew.
+
+"Come to an end, most likely," said Aunt Rachel; "and I don't know
+but that would be the best thing. It's growing more and more wicked
+every day."
+
+It will be seen that no great change has come over Miss Rachel Crump
+during the years that have intervened. She takes the same
+disheartening view of human nature and the world's prospects, as
+ever. Nevertheless, her own hold upon the world seems as strong as
+ever. Her appetite continues remarkably good, and although she
+frequently expresses herself to the effect that there is little use
+in living, probably she would be as unwilling to leave the world as
+any one. I am not sure that she does not derive as much enjoyment
+from her melancholy as other people from their cheerfulness.
+Unfortunately, her peculiar way of enjoying herself is calculated to
+have rather a depressing influence upon the spirits of those with
+whom she comes in contact--always excepting Jack, who has a lively
+sense of the ludicrous, and never enjoys himself better than in
+bantering his aunt.
+
+Ida is no less a favorite with Jack than with the other members of
+the household. Rough as he is sometimes, Jack is always gentle with
+Ida. When she was just learning to walk, and in her helplessness
+needed the constant care of others, he used, from choice, to relieve
+his mother of much of the task of amusing the child. He had never
+had a little sister, and the care of a child as young as Ida was a
+novelty to him. It was, perhaps, this very office of guardian to the
+child, assumed when she was so young, that made him feel ever after
+as if she was placed under his special protection.
+
+And Ida was equally attached to Jack. She learned to look up to him
+for assistance in anything which she had at heart, and he never
+disappointed her. Whenever he could, he would accompany her to
+school, holding her by the hand; and fond as he was of rough play,
+nothing would induce him to leave her.
+
+"How long have you been a nurse-maid?" asked a boy, older than
+himself, one day.
+
+Jack's fingers itched to get hold of his derisive questioner, but he
+had a duty to perform, and contented himself with saying, "Just wait
+a few minutes, and I'll let you know."
+
+"I dare say," was the reply. "I rather think I shall have to wait
+till both of us are gray before that time."
+
+"You won't have to wait long before you are black and blue,"
+retorted Jack.
+
+"Don't mind what he says, Jack," whispered Ida, fearful lest he
+should leave her.
+
+"Don't be afraid, Ida; I won't leave you; I guess he won't trouble
+us another day."
+
+Meanwhile the boy, emboldened by Jack's passiveness, followed, with
+more abuse of the same sort. If he had been wiser, he would have
+seen a storm gathering in the flash of Jack's eye; but he mistook
+the cause of his forbearance.
+
+The next day, as they were again going to school, Ida saw the same
+boy dodging round the corner, with his head bound up.
+
+"What's the matter with him, Jack?" she asked.
+
+"I licked him like blazes, that's all," said Jack, quietly.
+
+"I guess he'll let us alone after this."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A STRANGE VISITOR.
+
+
+
+
+
+IT was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Mrs. Crump was in the
+kitchen, busy in preparations for dinner, when a loud knock was
+heard at the door.
+
+"Who can it be?" ejaculated Mrs. Crump. "Aunt Rachel, there's
+somebody at the door; won't you be kind enough to see who it is?"
+
+"People have no business to call at such an hour in the morning,"
+grumbled Aunt Rachel, as she laid down her knitting reluctantly, and
+rose from her seat. "Nobody seems to have any consideration for
+anybody else. But that's the way of the world."
+
+Opening the outer door, she saw before her a tall woman, dressed in
+a gown of some dark stuff, with marked, and not altogether pleasant
+features.
+
+"Are you the lady of the house?" inquired the visitor.
+
+"There ain't any ladies in this house," said Rachel. "You've come to
+the wrong place. We have to work for a living here."
+
+"The woman of the house, then. It doesn't make any difference about
+names. Are you the one I want to see?"
+
+"No, I ain't," said Rachel, shortly.
+
+"Will you lead me to your mistress, then?"
+
+"I have none."
+
+The visitor's eyes flashed, as if her temper was easily roused.
+
+"I want to see Mrs. Crump," she said, impatiently. Will you call
+her, or shall I go and announce myself?"
+
+"Some folks are mighty impatient," muttered Rachel. "Stay here, and
+I'll call her to the door."
+
+In a short time Mrs. Crump presented herself.
+
+"Won't you come in?" she asked, pleasantly.
+
+"I don't care if I do," was the reply. "I wish to speak to you on
+important business."
+
+Mrs. Crump, whose interest was excited, led the way into the
+sitting-room.
+
+"You have in your family," said the stranger, after seating herself,
+"a girl named Ida."
+
+Mrs. Crump looked up suddenly and anxiously. Could it be that the
+secret of Ida's birth was to be revealed at last!
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Who is not your child."
+
+"But _whom_ I love as such; whom I have always taught to look upon
+me as a mother."
+
+"I presume so. It is of her that I wish to speak to you."
+
+"Do you know anything of her parentage?" inquired Mrs. Crump,
+eagerly.
+
+"I was her nurse," said the other, quietly.
+
+Mrs. Crump examined, anxiously, the hard features of the woman. It
+was a relief at least to know, though she could hardly have
+believed, that there was no tie of blood between her and Ida.
+
+"Who were her parents?"
+
+"I am not permitted to tell," was the reply.
+
+Mrs. Crump looked disappointed.
+
+"Surely," she said, with a sudden sinking of heart, "you have not
+come to take her away?"
+
+"This letter will explain my object in visiting you," said the
+woman, drawing a sealed envelope from a bag which she carried on her
+arm.
+
+The cooper's wife nervously broke open the letter, and read as
+follows:--
+
+"MRS. CRUMP;
+
+"Eight years ago last New Year's night, a child was left on your
+door-steps, with a note containing a request that you would care for
+it kindly as your own. Money was sent, at the same time, to defray
+the expenses of such care. The writer of this note is the mother of
+the child Ida. There is no need to say, here, why I sent the child
+away from me. You will easily understand that only the most
+imperative circumstances would have led me to such a step. Those
+circumstances still prevent me from reclaiming the child, and I am
+content, still, to leave Ida in your charge. Yet, there is one thing
+of which I am (sic) desirious. You will understand a mother's desire
+to see, face to face, the child who belongs, of right, to her. With
+this view, I have come to this neighborhood. I will not say where,
+for concealment is necessary to me. I send this note by a
+trustworthy attendant,--Mrs. Hardwick, my little Ida's nurse in her
+infancy,--who will conduct Ida to me, and return her again to you.
+Ida is not to know whom she is visiting. No doubt she believes you
+her mother, and it is well. Tell her only, that it is a lady who
+takes an interest in her, and that will satisfy her childish
+curiosity. I make this request as
+
+"IDA'S MOTHER."
+
+Mrs. Crump read this letter with mingled feelings. Pity for the
+writer; a vague curiosity in regard to the mysterious circumstances
+which had compelled her to resort to such a step; a half feeling of
+jealousy, that there should be one who had a claim to her dear
+adopted daughter superior to her own; and a strong feeling of relief
+at the assurance that Ida was not to be permanently removed,--all
+these feelings affected the cooper's wife.
+
+"So you were Ida's nurse," she said, gently.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said the stranger. "I hope the dear child is well."
+
+"Perfectly well. How much her mother must have suffered from the
+separation!"
+
+"Indeed, you may say so, ma'am. It came near to break her heart."
+
+"So it must," said sympathizing Mrs. Crump. "There is one thing I
+would like to ask," she continued, hesitating and reddening. "Don't
+answer it unless you please. Was--is Ida the child of shame?"
+
+"She is not," answered the nurse.
+
+Mrs. Crump looked relieved. It removed a thought from her mind which
+would now and then intrude, though it had never, for an instant,
+lessened her affection for the child.
+
+At this point in the conversation, the cooper entered the house. He
+had just come home on an errand.
+
+"It is my husband," said Mrs. Crump, turning to her visitor, by way
+of explanation. "Timothy, will you come in a moment?"
+
+Mr. Crump regarded his wife's visitor with some surprise. His wife
+hastened to introduce her as Mrs. Hardwick, Ida's nurse, and handed
+to the astonished cooper the letter which the latter had brought
+with her.
+
+He was not a rapid reader, and it took him some time to get through
+the letter. He laid it down on his knee, and looked thoughtful. The
+nurse regarded him with a slight uneasiness.
+
+"This is, indeed, unexpected," he said, at last. "It is a new
+development in Ida's history. May I ask, Mrs. Hardwick, if you have
+any further proof. I want to be prudent with a child that I love as
+my own,--if you have any further proof that you are what you claim
+to be?"
+
+"I judged that this letter would be sufficient," said the nurse;
+moving a little in her chair.
+
+"True; but how can we be sure that the writer is Ida's mother?"
+
+"The tone of the letter, sir. Would anybody else write like that?"
+
+"Then you have read the letter?" said the cooper, quickly.
+
+"It was read to me, before I set out."
+
+"By----"
+
+"By Ida's mother. I do not blame you for your caution," she
+continued. "You must be so interested in the happiness of the dear
+child of whom you have taken such (sic) excelent care, I don't mind
+telling you that I was the one who left her at your door eight years
+ago, and that I never left the neighborhood until I found that you
+had taken her in."
+
+"And it was this, that enabled you to find the house, to-day."
+
+"You forget," said the nurse, "that you were not then living in this
+house, but in another, some rods off, on the left-hand side of the
+street."
+
+"You are right," said the cooper. "I am disposed to believe in the
+genuineness of your claim. You must pardon my testing you in such a
+manner, but I was not willing to yield up Ida, even for a little
+time, without feeling confident of the hands she was falling into."
+
+"You are right," said the nurse. "I don't blame you in the least. I
+shall report it to Ida's mother, as a proof of your attachment to
+your child."
+
+"When do you wish Ida to go with you?" asked Mrs. Crump.
+
+"Can you let her go this afternoon?"
+
+"Why," said Mrs. Crump, hesitating, "I should like to have a chance
+to wash out some clothes for her. I want her to appear as neat a
+possible, when she meets her mother."
+
+The nurse hesitated.
+
+"I do not wish to hurry you. If you will let me know when she will
+be ready, I will call for her."
+
+"I think I can get her ready early to-morrow morning."
+
+"That will answer excellently. I will call for her then."
+
+The nurse rose, and gathered her shawl about her.
+
+"Where are you going, Mrs. Hardwick?" asked the cooper's wife.
+
+"To a hotel," was the reply.
+
+"We cannot allow that," said Mrs. Crump, kindly. "It is a pity if we
+cannot accommodate Ida's old nurse for one night, or ten times as
+long, for that matter."
+
+"My wife is quite right," said the cooper; "we must insist upon your
+stopping with us."
+
+The nurse hesitated, and looked irresolute. It was plain she would
+have preferred to be elsewhere, but a remark which Mrs. Crump made,
+decided her to accept the invitation.
+
+It was this. "You know, Mrs. Hardwick, if Ida is to go with you, she
+ought to have a little chance to get acquainted with you before you
+go."
+
+"I will accept your kind invitation," she said; "but I am afraid I
+shall be in your way."
+
+"Not in the least. It will be a pleasure to us to have you here. If
+you will excuse me now, I will go out and attend to my dinner, which
+I am afraid is getting behindhand."
+
+Left to herself, the nurse behaved in a manner which might be
+regarded as singular. She rose from her seat, and approached the
+mirror. She took a full survey of herself as she stood there, and
+laughed a short, hard laugh.
+
+Then she made a formal courtesy to her own reflection, saying, "How
+do you do, Mrs. Hardwick?"
+
+"Did you speak?" asked the cooper, who was passing through the entry
+on his way out.
+
+"No," said the nurse, a little awkwardly. "I believe I said
+something to myself. It's of no consequence."
+
+"Somehow," thought the cooper, "I don't fancy the woman's looks, but
+I dare say I am prejudiced. We're all of us as God made us."
+
+While Mrs. Crump was making preparations for the noon-day meal, she
+imparted to Rachel the astonishing information, which has already
+been detailed to the reader.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," said Rachel, resolutely.
+
+"She's an imposter. I knew she was the very first moment I set eyes
+on her."
+
+This remark was so characteristic of Rachel, that Mrs. Crump did not
+attach any special importance to it. Rachel, of course, had no
+grounds for the opinion she so confidently expressed. It was
+consistent, however, with her general estimate of human nature.
+
+"What object could she have in inventing such a story?"
+
+"What object? Hundreds of 'em," said Rachel, rather indefinitely.
+"Mark my words, if you let her carry off Ida, it'll be the last
+you'll ever see of her."
+
+"Try to look on the bright side, Rachel. Nothing is more natural
+than that her mother should want to see her."
+
+"Why couldn't she come herself?" muttered Rachel.
+
+"The letter explains."
+
+"I don't see that it does."
+
+"It says that the same reasons exist for concealment as ever."
+
+"And what are they, I should like to know? I don't like mysteries,
+for my part."
+
+"We won't quarrel with them, at any rate, since they enable us to
+keep Ida with us."
+
+Aunt Rachel shook her head, as if she were far from satisfied.
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Crump, "but I ought to invite Mrs.
+Hardwick in here. I have left her alone in the front room."
+
+"I don't want to see her," said Aunt Rachel. Then changing her mind,
+suddenly, "Yes, you may bring her in. I'll find out whether she is
+an imposter or not."
+
+Mrs. Crump returned with the nurse. "Mrs. Hardwick," said she, "this
+is my sister, Miss Rachel Crump."
+
+"I am glad to make your acquaintance, ma'am," said the nurse.
+
+"Aunt Rachel, I will leave you to entertain Mrs. Hardwick," said
+Mrs. Crump. "I am obliged to be in the kitchen."
+
+Rachel and the nurse eyed each other with mutual dislike.
+
+"I hope you don't expect me to entertain you," said Rachel. "I never
+expect to entertain anybody again. This is a world of trial and
+tribulation, and I've had my share. So you've come after Ida, I
+hear?" with a sudden change of subject.
+
+"At her mother's request," said the nurse.
+
+"She wants to see her, then?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I wonder she didn't think of it before," said Aunt Rachel, sharply.
+"She's good at waiting. She's waited eight years."
+
+"There are circumstances that cannot be explained," commenced the
+nurse.
+
+"No, I dare say not," said Rachel, dryly. "So you were her nurse?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Mrs. Hardwick, who evidently did not relish this
+cross-examination.
+
+"Have you lived with the mother ever since?"
+
+"No,--yes," stammered the nurse. "Some of the time," she added,
+recovering herself.
+
+"Umph!" grunted Rachel, darting a sharp glance at her.
+
+"Have you a husband living?" inquired Rachel, after a pause.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Hardwick. "Have you?"
+
+"I!" repeated Aunt Rachel, scornfully. "No, neither living nor dead.
+I'm thankful to say I never married. I've had trials enough without
+that. Does Ida's mother live in the city?"
+
+"I can't tell you," said the nurse.
+
+"Humph, I don't like mystery."
+
+"It isn't my mystery," said the nurse. "If you have any objection to
+make against it, you must make it to Ida's mother."
+
+The two were not likely to get along very amicably. Neither was
+gifted with the best of tempers, and perhaps it was as well that
+there should have been an interruption as there was.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A JOURNEY.
+
+
+
+
+
+"OH, mother," exclaimed Ida, bounding into the room, fresh from
+school.
+
+She stopped short, in some confusion, on seeing a stranger.
+
+"Is this my own dear child, over whose infancy I watched so
+tenderly?" exclaimed the nurse, rising, her harsh features wreathed
+into a smile.
+
+"It is Ida," said Mrs. Crump.
+
+Ida looked from one to the other in silent bewilderment.
+
+"Ida," said Mrs. Crump, in a little embarrassment, "this is Mrs.
+Hardwick, who took care of you when you were an infant."
+
+"But I thought you took care of me, mother," said Ida, in surprise.
+
+"Very true," said Mrs. Crump, evasively, "but I was not able to have
+the care of you all the time. Didn't I ever mention Mrs. Hardwick to
+you?"
+
+"No, mother."
+
+"Although it is so long since I have seen her, I should have known
+her anywhere," said the nurse, applying a handkerchief to her eyes.
+"So pretty as she's grown up, too!"
+
+Mrs. Crump, who, as has been said, was devotedly attached to Ida,
+glanced with pride at the beautiful child, who blushed at the
+compliment.
+
+"Ida," said Mrs. Hardwick, "won't you come and kiss your old nurse?"
+
+Ida looked at the hard face, which now wore a smile intended to
+express affection. Without knowing why, she felt an instinctive
+repugnance to her, notwithstanding her words of endearment.
+
+She advanced timidly, with a reluctance which she was not wholly
+able to conceal, and passively submitted to a caress from the nurse.
+
+There was a look in the eyes of the nurse, carefully guarded, yet
+not wholly concealed, which showed that she was quite aware of Ida's
+feeling towards her, and resented it. But whether or not she was
+playing a part, she did not betray this feeling openly, but pressed
+the unwilling child more closely to her bosom.
+
+Ida breathed a sigh of relief when she was released, and walked
+quietly away, wondering what it was that made her dislike the woman
+so much.
+
+"Is my nurse a good woman?" she asked, thoughtfully, when alone with
+Mrs. Crump, who was setting the table for dinner.
+
+A good woman! What makes you ask that?" queried her adopted mother,
+in surprise.
+
+"I don't know," said Ida.
+
+"I don't know anything to indicate that she is otherwise," said Mrs.
+Crump. "And, by the way, Ida, she is going to take you on a little
+excursion, to-morrow."
+
+"She going to take me?" exclaimed Ida. "Why, where are we going?"
+
+"On a little pleasure trip, and perhaps she may introduce you to a
+pleasant lady, who has already become interested in you, from what
+she has told her."
+
+"What could she say of me?" inquired Ida, "she has not seen me since
+I was a baby."
+
+"Why," said the cooper's wife a little puzzled, "she appears to have
+thought of you ever since, with a good deal of affection."
+
+"Is it wicked," asked Ida, after a pause, "not to like those that
+like us?"
+
+"What makes you ask?"
+
+"Because, somehow or other, I don't like this Mrs. Hardwick at all,
+for all she was my old nurse, and I don't believe ever shall."
+
+"Oh yes, you will," said Mrs. Crump, "when you find she is exerting
+herself to give you pleasure."
+
+"Am I going to-morrow morning with Mrs. Hardwick?"
+
+"Yes. She wanted you to go to-day, but your clothes were not in
+order."
+
+"We shall come back at night, sha'n't we?"
+
+"I presume so."
+
+"I hope we shall," said Ida, decidedly, "and that she won't want me
+to go with her again."
+
+"Perhaps you will think differently when it is over, and you find
+you have enjoyed yourself better than you anticipated."
+
+Mrs. Crump exerted herself to fit Ida up as neatly as possible, and
+when at length she was got ready, she thought to herself, with
+sudden fear, "Perhaps her mother won't be willing to part with her
+again."
+
+When Ida was ready to start, there came over all a little shadow of
+depression, as if the child were to be separated from them for a
+year, and not for a day only. Perhaps this was only natural, since
+even this latter term, however brief, was longer than they had been
+parted from her since, an infant, she was left at their door.
+
+The nurse expressly desired that none of the family should accompany
+her, as she declared it highly important that the whereabouts of
+Ida's mother should not be known at once. "Of course," she said,
+"after Ida returns, she can tell you what she pleases. Then it will
+be of no consequence, for her mother will be gone. She does not live
+in this neighborhood; she has only come here to have an interview
+with Ida."
+
+"Shall you bring her back to-night?" asked Mrs. Crump.
+
+"I may keep her till to-morrow," said the nurse. "After eight years'
+absence, that will seem short enough."
+
+To this, Mrs. Crump agreed, but thought that it would seem long to
+her, she had been so accustomed to have Ida present at meals.
+
+The nurse walked as far as Broadway, holding Ida by the hand.
+
+"Where are we going?" asked the child, timidly. "Are we going to
+walk all the way?"
+
+"No," said the nurse, "we shall ride. There is an omnibus coming
+now. We will get into it."
+
+She beckoned to the driver who stopped his horse. Ida and her
+companion got in.
+
+They got out at the Jersey City ferry.
+
+"Did you ever ride in a steamboat?" asked Mrs. Hardwick, in a tone
+intended to be gracious.
+
+"Once or twice," said Ida. "I went with brother Jack once, over to
+Hoboken. Are we going there, now?"
+
+"No, we are going over to the city, you can see over the water."
+
+"What is it? Is it Brooklyn?"
+
+"No, it is Jersey City."
+
+"Oh, that will be pleasant," said Ida, forgetting, in her childish
+love of novelty, the repugnance with which the nurse had inspired
+her.
+
+"Yes, and that is not all; we are going still further," said the
+nurse.
+
+"Are we going further?" asked Ida, her eyes sparkling. "Where are we
+going?"
+
+"To a town on the line of the railroad."
+
+"And shall we ride in the cars?" asked the child, with animation.
+
+"Yes, didn't you ever ride in the cars before?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"I think you will like it."
+
+"Oh, I know I shall. How fast do the cars go?"
+
+"Oh, a good many miles an hour,--maybe thirty."
+
+"And how long will it take us to go to the place you are going to
+carry me to!"
+
+"I don't know exactly,--perhaps two hours."
+
+"Two whole hours in the cars!" exclaimed Ida. "How much I shall have
+to tell father and Jack when I get back."
+
+"So you will," said Mrs. Hardwick, with an unaccountable smile,
+"when you get back."
+
+There was something peculiar in her tone as she pronounced these
+last words, but Ida did not notice it.
+
+So Ida, despite her company, actually enjoyed, in her bright
+anticipation, a keen sense of pleasure.
+
+"Are we most there?" she asked, after riding about two hours.
+
+"It won't be long," said the nurse.
+
+"We must have come ever so many miles," said Ida.
+
+An hour passed. She amused herself by gazing out of the car windows
+at the towns which seemed to flit by. At length, both Ida and her
+nurse became hungry.
+
+The nurse beckoned to her side a boy who was going through the cars
+selling apples and seed-cakes, and inquired their price.
+
+"The apples are two cents apiece, ma'am, and the cakes a cent
+apiece."
+
+Ida, who had been looking out of the window, turned suddenly round,
+and exclaimed, in great astonishment; "Why, William Fitts, is that
+you?"
+
+"Why, Ida, where did you come from?" asked the boy, his surprise
+equalling her own.
+
+The nurse bit her lips in vexation at this unexpected recognition.
+
+"I'm making a little journey with her," indicating Mrs. Hardwick.
+
+"So you're going to Philadelphia," said the boy.
+
+"To Philadelphia!" said Ida, in surprise. "Not that I know of."
+
+"Why, you're most there now."
+
+"Are we, Mrs. Hardwick?" asked Ida, looking in her companion's face.
+
+"It isn't far from there where we're going," said the nurse,
+shortly. "Boy, I'll take two of your apples and four seed-cakes. And
+now you'd better go along, for there's somebody by the stove that
+looks as if he wanted to buy of you."
+
+William looked back as if he would like to question Ida farther, but
+her companion looked forbidding, and he passed on reluctantly.
+
+"Who is that boy?" asked the nurse, abruptly.
+
+"His name is William Fitts."
+
+"Where did you get acquainted with him?"
+
+"He went to school with Jack, so I used to see him sometimes."
+
+"With Jack! Who's Jack?"
+
+"What! Don't you know Jack, brother Jack?" asked Ida, in childish
+surprise.
+
+"O yes," replied the nurse, recollecting herself; "I didn't think of
+him."
+
+He's a first-rate boy, William is," said Ida, who was disposed to be
+communicative. "He's good to his mother. You see his mother is sick
+most of the time, and can't do much; and he's got a little sister,
+she ain't more than four or five years old--and William supports
+them by selling things. "He's only sixteen; isn't he a smart boy?"
+
+"Yes;" said the nurse, mechanically.
+
+"Some time," continued Ida, "I hope I shall be able to earn
+something for father and mother, so they won't be obliged to work so
+hard."
+
+"What could you do?" asked the nurse, curiously.
+
+"I don't know as I could do much," said Ida, modestly; "but when I
+have practised more, perhaps I could draw pictures that people would
+buy."
+
+"So you know how to draw?"
+
+"Yes, I've been taking lessons for over a year."
+
+"And how do you like it?"
+
+"Oh, ever so much! I like it a good deal better than music."
+
+"Do you know anything of that?"
+
+"Yes, I can play a few easy pieces."
+
+Mrs. Hardwick looked surprised, and regarded her young charge with
+curiosity.
+
+"Have you got any of your drawings with you?" she asked.
+
+"No, I didn't bring any."
+
+"I wish you had; the lady we are going to see would have liked to
+see some of them."
+
+"Are we going to see a lady?"
+
+"Yes, didn't your mother tell you?"
+
+"Yes, I believe she said something about a lady that was interested
+in me."
+
+"That's the one."
+
+"Where does she live? When shall we get there?"
+
+"We shall get there before very long."
+
+"And shall we come back to New York to-night?"
+
+"No, it wouldn't leave us any time to stay. Besides, I feel tired
+and want to rest; don't you?"
+
+"I do feel a little tired," acknowledged Ida.
+
+"Philadelphia!" announced the conductor, opening the car-door.
+
+"We get out, here," said the nurse. "Keep close to me, or you may
+get lost. Perhaps you had better take hold of my hand."
+
+"When are you coming back, Ida?" asked William Fitts, coming up to
+her with his basket on his arm.
+
+"Mrs. Hardwick says we sha'n't go back till to-morrow."
+
+"Come, Ida," said the nurse, sharply. "We must hurry along."
+
+"Good-by, William," said Ida. "If you see Jack, just tell him you
+saw me."
+
+"Yes, I will," was the reply.
+
+"I wonder who that woman is with Ida," thought the boy. "I don't
+like her looks much. I wonder if she's any relation of Mr. Crump.
+She looks about as pleasant as Aunt Rachel."
+
+The last-mentioned lady would hardly have felt complimented at the
+comparison, or the manner in which it was made.
+
+Ida looked about her with curiosity. There was a novelty in being in
+a new place, since, as far back as she could remember, she had never
+left New York, except for a brief excursion to Hoboken; and one
+Fourth of July was made memorable in her recollection, by a trip to
+Staten Island, which she had taken with Jack, and enjoyed
+exceedingly.
+
+"Is this Philadelphia?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes;" said her companion, shortly.
+
+"How far is it from New York?"
+
+"I don't know; a hundred miles, more or less."
+
+"A hundred miles!" repeated Ida, to whom this seemed an immense
+distance. "Am I a hundred miles from father and mother, and Jack,
+and--and Aunt Rachel?"
+
+The last name was mentioned last, and rather as an after-thought, if
+Ida felt it her duty to include the not very amiable spinster, who
+had never erred in the way of indulgence.
+
+"Why, yes, of course you are," said Mrs. Hardwick, in a practical,
+matter-of-fact tone. "Here, cross the street here. Take care or
+you'll get run over. Now turn down here."
+
+They had now entered a narrow and dirty street, with unsightly
+houses on either side.
+
+"This ain't a very nice looking street," said Ida, looking about
+her.
+
+"Why isn't it?" demanded the nurse, looking displeased.
+
+"Why, it's narrow, and the houses don't look nice."
+
+"What do you think of that house, there?" asked Mrs. Hardwick,
+pointing out a tall, brick tenement house.
+
+"I shouldn't like to live there," said Ida, after a brief survey.
+
+"You shouldn't! You don't like it so well as the house you live in
+in New York?"
+
+"No, not half so well."
+
+The nurse smiled.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to go up and look at the house?" she asked.
+
+"Go up and look at it!" repeated Ida, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, I mean to go in."
+
+"Why, what should we do that for?"
+
+"You see there are some poor families living there that I go to see
+sometimes," said Mrs. Hardwick, who appeared to be amused at
+something. "You know it is our duty to visit the poor."
+
+"Yes, that's what mother says."
+
+"There's a poor man living in the third story that I've made a good
+many clothes for, first and last," said the nurse, in the same
+peculiar tone.
+
+"He must be very much obliged to you," said Ida, thinking that Mrs.
+Hardwick was a better woman than she had supposed.
+
+"We're going up to see him, now," said the nurse. "Just take care
+of. that hole in the stairs. Here we are."
+
+Somewhat to Ida's surprise, her companion opened the door without
+the ceremony of knocking, and revealed a poor untidy room, in which
+a coarse, unshaven man, was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a
+pipe.
+
+"Hallo!" exclaimed this individual, jumping up suddenly. "So you've
+got along, old woman! Is that the gal?"
+
+Ida stared from one to the other, in unaffected amazement.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+UNEXPECTED QUARTERS.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE appearance of the man whom Mrs. Hardwick addressed so familiarly
+was more picturesque than pleasing. He had a large, broad face,
+which, not having been shaved for a week, looked like a wilderness
+of stubble. His nose indicated habitual indulgence in alcoholic
+beverages. His eyes, likewise, were bloodshot, and his skin looked
+coarse and blotched; his coat was thrown aside, displaying a shirt
+which bore evidence of having been useful in its day and generation.
+The same remark may apply to his nether integuments, which were
+ventilated at each knee, indicating a most praiseworthy regard to
+the laws of health. He was sitting in a chair pitched back against
+the wall, with his feet resting on another, and a short Dutch pipe
+in his mouth, from which volumes of smoke were pouring.
+
+Ida thought she had never seen before so disgusting a man. She
+continued to gaze at him, half in astonishment, half in terror, till
+the object of her attention exclaimed,--
+
+"Well, little girl, what you're looking at? Hain't you never seen a
+gentleman before?"
+
+Ida clung the closer to her companion, who, she was surprised to
+find, did not resent the man's impertinence.
+
+"Well, Dick, how've you got along since I've been gone?" asked Mrs.
+Hardwick, to Ida's unbounded astonishment.
+
+"Oh, so so."
+
+"Have you felt lonely any?"
+
+"I've had good company."
+
+"Who's been here?"
+
+Dick pointed significantly to a jug, which stood beside his chair.
+
+"So you've brought the gal. How did you get hold of her?"
+
+There was something in these questions which terrified Ida. It
+seemed to indicate a degree of complicity between these two, which
+boded no good to her.
+
+"I'll tell you the particulars by and by," said the nurse, looking
+significantly at the child's expressive face.
+
+At the same time she began to take off her bonnet.
+
+"You ain't going to stop, are you?" whispered Ida.
+
+"Ain't going to stop!" repeated the man called Dick. "Why shouldn't
+she? Ain't she at home?"
+
+"At home!" echoed Ida, apprehensively, opening wide her eyes in
+astonishment.
+
+"Yes, ask her."
+
+Ida looked, inquiringly, at Mrs. Hardwick.
+
+"You might as well take off your things," said the latter, grimly.
+"We ain't going any farther to-day."
+
+"And where's the lady you said you were going to see?" asked the
+child, bewildered.
+
+"The one that was interested in you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I'm the one."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't want to stay here," said Ida, becoming frightened.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked the woman,
+mockingly.
+
+"Will you take me back early to-morrow?"
+
+"No, I don't intend to take you back at all," said the nurse,
+coolly.
+
+Ida seemed stupefied with astonishment and terror at first. Then,
+actuated by a sudden impulse, she ran to the door, and had got it
+open when the nurse sprang forward, and seizing her by the arm,
+dragged her rudely back.
+
+"Where are you going in such a hurry?" she demanded, roughly.
+
+"Back to father and mother," said Ida, bursting into tears. "Oh, why
+did you carry me away?"
+
+"I'll tell you why," answered Dick, jocularly. "You see, Ida, we
+ain't got any little girl to love us, and so we got you."
+
+"But I don't love you, and I never shall," said Ida, indignantly.
+
+"Now don't you go to saying that," said Dick. "You'll break my
+heart, you will, and then Peg will be a widow."
+
+To give effect to this pathetic speech, Dick drew out a tattered red
+handkerchief, and made a great demonstration of wiping his eyes.
+
+The whole scene was so ludicrous that Ida, despite her fears and
+disgust, could not help laughing hysterically. She recovered herself
+instantly, and said, imploringly, "Oh, do let me go, and father will
+pay you; I'm sure he will."
+
+"You really think he would?" said Dick.
+
+"Oh, yes; and you'll tell her to carry me back, won't you?"
+
+"No, he won't tell me any such thing," said Peg, gruffly; "and if he
+did, I wouldn't do it; so you might as well give up all thoughts of
+that first as last. You're going to stay here; so take off that
+bonnet of yours, and say no more about it."
+
+Ida made no motion towards obeying this mandate.
+
+"Then I'll do it for you," said Peg.
+
+She roughly untied the bonnet, Ida struggling vainly in opposition,
+and taking this with the shawl, carried them to a closet, in which
+she placed them, and then, locking the door, deliberately put the
+key in her pocket.
+
+"There," said she, "I guess you're safe for the present."
+
+"Ain't you ever going to carry me back?" asked Ida, wishing to know
+the worst.
+
+"Some years hence," said the woman, coolly. "We want you here for
+the present. Besides, you're not sure that they want to see you back
+again."
+
+"Not glad to see me?"
+
+"No; how do you know but your father and mother sent you off on
+purpose? They've been troubled with you long enough, and now they've
+bound you apprentice to me till you're eighteen."
+
+"It's a lie," said Ida, firmly. "They didn't send me off, and you're
+a wicked woman to keep me here."
+
+"Hoity-toity!" said the woman, pausing and looking menacingly at the
+child. "Have you anything more to say before I whip you?"
+
+"Yes," said Ida, goaded to desperation; "I shall complain of you to
+the police, and they will put you in jail, and send me home. That is
+what I will do."
+
+The nurse seized Ida by the arm, and striding with her to the closet
+already spoken of, unlocked it, and rudely pushing her in, locked
+the door after her.
+
+"She's a spunky 'un," remarked Dick, taking the pipe from his mouth.
+
+"Yes," said the woman, "she makes more fuss than I thought she
+would."
+
+"How did you manage to come it over her family?" asked Dick.
+
+His wife, gave substantially, the same account with which the reader
+is already familiar.
+
+"Pretty well done, old woman!" exclaimed Dick, approvingly. "I
+always said you was a deep 'un. I always say if Peg can't find out a
+way to do a thing it can't be done, no how."
+
+"How about the counterfeit coin?" asked his wife, abruptly.
+
+"They're to supply us with all we can get off, and we are to have
+one half of all we succeed in passing."
+
+"That is good," said the woman, thoughtfully. "When this girl Ida
+gets a little tamed down, we'll give her some business to do."
+
+"Won't she betray us if she gets caught?"
+
+"We'll manage that, or at least I will. I'll work on her fears so
+that she won't any more dare to say a word about us than to cut her
+own head off."
+
+Ida sank down on the floor of the closet into which she had been
+thrust. Utter darkness was around her, and a darkness as black
+seemed to hang over all her prospects of future happiness. She had
+been snatched in a moment from parents, or those whom she regarded
+as such, and from a comfortable and happy though humble home, to
+this dismal place. In place of the kindness and indulgence to which
+she had been accustomed, she was now treated with harshness and
+cruelty. What wonder that her heart desponded, and her tears of
+childish sorrow flowed freely?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+SUSPENSE.
+
+
+
+
+
+IT doesn't somehow seem natural," said Mr. Crump, as he took his
+seat at the tea-table, "to sit down without Ida. It seems as if half
+of the family were gone."
+
+"Just what I've said twenty times to-day," remarked his wife.
+"Nobody knows how much a child is to them till they lose it."
+
+"Not lose it, mother," said Jack, who had been sitting in a silence
+unusual for him."
+
+"I didn't mean to say that," said Mrs. Crump. "I meant till they
+were gone away for a time."
+
+"When you spoke of losing," said Jack, "it made me feel just as Ida
+wasn't coming back."
+
+"I don't know how it is," said his mother, thoughtfully, "but that's
+just the feeling I've had several times to-day. I've felt just as if
+something or other would happen so that Ida wouldn't come back."
+
+"That is only because she has never been away before," said the
+cooper, cheerfully. "It isn't best to borrow trouble; we shall have
+enough of it without."
+
+"You never said a truer word, brother," said Rachel, lugubriously.
+"'Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.' This world is a
+vale of tears. Folks may try and try to be happy, but that isn't
+what they're sent here for."
+
+"Now that's where I differ from you," said the cooper,
+good-humoredly, "just as there are many more pleasant than stormy
+days, so I believe that there is much more of brightness than shadow
+in this life of ours, if we would only see it."
+
+"I can't see it," said Rachel, shaking her head very decidedly.
+
+"Perhaps you could if you tried."
+
+"So I do."
+
+"It seems to me, Rachel, you take more pains to look at the clouds
+than the sun."
+
+"Yes," chimed in Jack; "I've noticed whenever Aunt Rachel takes up
+the newspaper, she always looks first at the (sic) death's, and next
+at the fatal accidents and steamboat explosions."
+
+"It's said," said Aunt Rachel, with severe emphasis, "if you should
+ever be on board a steamboat when it exploded you wouldn't find much
+to laugh at."
+
+"Yes, I should," said Jack. "I should laugh----"
+
+"What!" said Aunt Rachel, horrified.
+
+"On the other side of my mouth," concluded Jack. "You didn't wait
+till I had got through the sentence."
+
+"I don't think it proper to make light of such matters."
+
+"Nor I, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, drawing down the corners of his
+mouth. "I am willing to confess that this is a serious matter. I
+should feel as they said the cow did, that was thrown three hundred
+feet into the air."
+
+"How was that?" inquired his mother.
+
+"A little discouraged," replied Jack.
+
+All laughed except Aunt Rachel, who preserved the same severe
+composure, and continued to eat the pie upon her plate with the air
+of one gulping down medicine.
+
+So the evening passed. All seemed to miss Ida. Mrs. Crump found
+herself stealing glances at the smaller chair beside her own in
+which Ida usually sat. The cooper appeared abstracted, and did not
+take as much interest as usual in the evening paper. Jack was
+restless, and found it difficult to fix his attention upon anything.
+Even Aunt Rachel looked more dismal than usual, if such a thing be
+possible.
+
+In the morning all felt brighter.
+
+"Ida will be home to-night," said Mrs. Crump, cheerfully. "What an
+age it seems since she left us!"
+
+"We shall know better how to appreciate her presence," said the
+cooper, cheerfully.
+
+"What time do you expect her home? Did Mrs. Hardwick say?"
+
+"Why no," said Mrs. Crump, she didn't say, but I guess she will be
+along in the course of the afternoon."
+
+"If we only knew where she had gone," said Jack, "we could tell
+better."
+
+"But as we don't know," said his father, "we must wait patiently
+till she comes."
+
+"I guess," said Mrs. Crump, in the spirit of a notable housewife,
+"I'll make up some apple-turnovers for supper to-night. There's
+nothing Ida likes so well."
+
+"That's where Ida is right," said Jack, "apple-turnovers are
+splendid."
+
+"They're very unwholesome," remarked Aunt Rachel.
+
+"I shouldn't think so from the way you eat them, Aunt Rachel,"
+retorted Jack. "You ate four the last time we had them for supper."
+
+"I didn't think you'd begrudge me the little I eat," said Rachel,
+dolefully. "I didn't think you took the trouble to keep account of
+what I ate."
+
+"Come, Rachel, this is unreasonable," said her brother. "(sic)
+Noboby begrudges you what you eat, even if you choose to eat twice
+as much as you do. I dare say, Jack ate more of them than you did."
+
+"I ate six," said Jack.
+
+Rachel, construing this into an apology, said no more; but, feeling
+it unnecessary to explain why she ate what she admitted to be
+unhealthy, added, "And if I do eat what's unwholesome, it's because
+life ain't of any value to me. The sooner one gets out of this vale
+of affliction the better."
+
+"And the way you take to get out of it," said Jack, gravely, "is by
+eating apple-turnovers. Whenever you die, Aunt Rachel, we shall have
+to put a paragraph in the papers, headed, 'Suicide by eating
+apple-turnovers.'"
+
+Rachel intimated, in reply, that she presumed it would afford Jack a
+great deal of satisfaction to write such a paragraph.
+
+The evening came. Still no tidings of Ida.
+
+The family began to feel alarmed. An indefinable sense of
+apprehension oppressed the minds of all. Mrs. Crump feared that
+Ida's mother, seeing her grown up so attractive, could not resist
+the temptation of keeping her.
+
+"I suppose," she said, "that she has the best claim to her; but it
+will be a terrible thing for us to part with her."
+
+"Don't let us trouble ourselves in that way," said the cooper. "It
+seems to me very natural that they should keep her a little longer
+than they intended. Besides, it is not too late for her to return
+to-night."
+
+This cheered Mrs. Crump a little.
+
+The evening passed slowly.
+
+At length there came a knock at the door.
+
+"I guess that is Ida," said Mrs. Crump, joyfully.
+
+Jack seized a candle, and hastening to the door, threw it open. But
+there was no Ida there. In her place stood William Fitts, the boy
+who had met Ida in the cars.
+
+"How do you do, Bill?" said Jack, endeavoring not to look
+disappointed. "Come in, and take a seat, and tell us all the news."
+
+"Well," said William, "I don't know of any. I suppose Ida has got
+home."
+
+"No," said Jack, "we expected her to-night, but she hasn't come
+yet."
+
+"She told me that she expected to come back to-day," said William.
+
+"What! have you seen her?" exclaimed all in chorus.
+
+"Yes, I saw her yesterday noon."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Why, in the cars," said William, a little surprised at the
+question.
+
+"What cars?" asked the cooper.
+
+"Why, the Philadelphia cars. Of course, you knew that was where she
+was going?"
+
+"Philadelphia!" all exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, the cars were almost there when I saw her. Who was that with
+her?"
+
+"Mrs. Hardwick, who was her old nurse."
+
+"Anyway, I didn't like her looks," said the boy.
+
+"That's where I agree with you," said Jack, decidedly.
+
+"She didn't seem to want me to speak to Ida," continued William,
+"but hurried her off, just as quick as possible."
+
+"There were reasons for that," said Mrs. Crump, "she wanted to keep
+secret her destination."
+
+"I don't know what it was," said William; "but any how, I don't like
+her looks."
+
+The family felt a little relieved by this information; and, since
+Ida had gone so far, it did not seem strange that she should have
+outstayed her time.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+HOW IDA FARED.
+
+
+
+
+
+WE left Ida confined in a dark closet, with Peg standing guard over
+her.
+
+After an hour she was released.
+
+"Well," said Peg, grimly, "how do you feel now?"
+
+"I want to go home," sobbed the child.
+
+"You are at home," said the woman. This is going to be your home
+now."
+
+"Shall I never see father and mother and Jack, again?"
+
+"Why," answered Peg, "that depends on how you behave yourself."
+
+"Oh, if you will only let me go," said Ida, gathering hope from this
+remark, "I'll do anything you say."
+
+"Do you mean this, or do you only say it for the sake of getting
+away?"
+
+"Oh, I mean just what I say. Dear, good Mrs. Hardwick, just tell me
+what I am to do, and I will obey you cheerfully."
+
+"Very well," said Peg, "only you needn't try to get anything out of
+me by calling me dear, good Mrs. Hardwick. In the first place, you
+don't care a cent about me. In the second place, I am not good; and
+finally, my name isn't Mrs. Hardwick, except in New York."
+
+"What is it, then?" asked Ida.
+
+"It's just Peg, no more and no less. You may call me Aunt Peg."
+
+"I would rather call you Mrs. Hardwick."
+
+"Then you'll have a good many years to call me so. You'd better do
+as I tell you if you want any favors. Now what do you say?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Peg," said Ida, with a strong effort to conceal her
+repugnance.
+
+"That's well. Now the first thing to do, is to stay here for the
+present."
+
+"Yes--aunt."
+
+"The second is, you're not to tell anybody that you came from New
+York. That is very important. You understand that, do you?"
+
+The child replied in the affirmative.
+
+"The next is, that you're to pay for your board, by doing whatever I
+tell you."
+
+"If it isn't wicked."
+
+"Do you suppose I would ask you to do anything wicked?"
+
+"You said you wasn't good," mildly suggested Ida.
+
+"I'm good enough to take care of you. Well, what do you say to that?
+Answer me."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"There's another thing. You ain't to try to run away."
+
+Ida hung down her head.
+
+"Ha!" said Peg. "So you've been thinking of it, have you?"
+
+"Yes," said Ida, boldly, after a moment's hesitation; "I did think I
+should if I got a good chance."
+
+"Humph!" said the woman; "I see we must understand one another.
+Unless you promise this, back you go into the dark closet, and I
+shall keep you there all the time."
+
+Ida shuddered at this fearful threat, terrible to a child of nine.
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+"Yes," said the child, faintly.
+
+"For fear you might be tempted to break your promise, I have
+something to show you."
+
+She went to the cupboard, and took down a large pistol.
+
+"There," she said, "do you see that?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Peg."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It is a pistol, I believe."
+
+"Do you know what it is for?"
+
+"To shoot people with," said Ida, fixing her eyes on the weapon, as
+if impelled by a species of fascination.
+
+"Yes," said the woman; "I see you understand. Well, now, do you know
+what I would do if you should tell anybody where you came from, or
+attempt to run away? Can you guess now?"
+
+"Would you shoot me?" asked the child, struck with terror.
+
+"Yes, I would," said Peg, with fierce emphasis. "That's just what
+I'd do. And what's more," she added, "even if you got away, and got
+back to your family in New York. I would follow you and shoot you
+dead in the street."
+
+"You wouldn't be so wicked!" exclaimed Ida, appalled.
+
+"Wouldn't I, though?" repeated Peg, significantly. "If you don't
+believe I would, just try it. Do you think you would like to try
+it?"
+
+"No," said the child, with a shudder.
+
+"Well, that's the most sensible thing you've said yet. Now, that you
+have got to be a little more reasonable, I'll tell you what I am
+going to do with you."
+
+Ida looked up eagerly into her face.
+
+"I am going to keep you with me a year. I want the services of a
+little girl for that time. If you serve me faithfully, I will then
+send you back to your friends in New York."
+
+"Will you?" said Ida, hopefully.
+
+"Yes. But you must mind and do what I tell you."
+
+"O yes," said the child, joyfully.
+
+This was so much better than she had been led to fear, that the
+prospect of returning home, even after a year, gave her fresh
+courage.
+
+"What shall I do?" she asked, anxious to conciliate Peg.
+
+"You may take the broom,--you will find it just behind the
+door,--and sweep the room."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Peg."
+
+"And after that you may wash the dishes. Or, rather, you may wash
+the dishes first."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Peg."
+
+"And after that I will find something for you to do."
+
+The next morning Ida was asked if she would like to go out into the
+street.
+
+This was a welcome proposition, as the sun was shining brightly, and
+there was little to please a child's fancy in Peg's shabby
+apartment.
+
+"I am going to let you do a little shopping," said Peg. "There are
+various things that we want. Go and get your bonnet."
+
+"It's in the closet," said Ida.
+
+"O yes, where I put it. That was before I could trust you."
+
+She went to the closet, and came back bringing the bonnet and shawl.
+As soon as they were ready, they emerged into the street. Ida was
+glad to be in the open air once more.
+
+"This is a little better than being shut up in the closet, isn't
+it?" said Peg.
+
+Ida owned that it was.
+
+"You see you'll have a very good time of it, if you do as I bid you.
+I don't want to do you any harm. I want you to be happy."
+
+So they walked along together, until Peg, suddenly pausing, laid her
+hand on Ida's arm, and pointing to a shop near by, said to her, "Do
+you see that shop?"
+
+"Yes," said Ida.
+
+"Well, that is a baker's shop. And now I'll tell you what to do. I
+want you to go in, and ask for a couple of rolls. They come at three
+cents apiece. Here's some money to pay for them. It is a silver
+dollar, as you see. You will give this to them, and they will give
+you back ninety-four cents in change. Do you understand'?"
+
+"Yes," said Ida; "I think I do."
+
+"And if they ask if you haven't anything smaller, you will say no."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Peg."
+
+"I will stay just outside. I want you to go in alone, so that you
+will get used to doing without me."
+
+Ida entered the shop. The baker, a pleasant-looking man, stood
+behind the counter.
+
+"Well, my dear, what is it?" he asked.
+
+"I should like a couple of rolls."
+
+"For your mother, I suppose," said the baker, sociably.
+
+"No," said Ida; "for the woman I board with."
+
+"Ha! a silver dollar, and a new one, too," said the baker, receiving
+the coin tendered in payment. "I shall have to save that for my
+little girl."
+
+Ida left the shop with the two rolls and the silver change.
+
+"Did he say anything about the money?" asked Peg, a little
+anxiously.
+
+"He said he should save it for his little girl."
+
+"Good," said the woman, approvingly; "you've done well."
+
+Ida could not help wondering what the baker's disposal of the dollar
+had to do with her doing well, but she was soon thinking of other
+things.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+BAD COIN.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE baker introduced to the reader's notice in the last chapter was
+named Crump. Singularly enough Abel Crump, for this was his name,
+was a brother of Timothy Crump, the cooper. In many respects he
+resembled his brother. He was an excellent man, exemplary in all the
+relations of life, and had a good heart. He was in very comfortable
+circumstances, having accumulated a little property by diligent
+attention to his business. Like his brother, Abel Crump had married,
+and had one child, now about the size of Ida, that is, nine years
+old. She had received the name of Ellen.
+
+When the baker closed his shop for the night he did not forget the
+silver dollar which he had received, or the disposal which he told
+Ida he should make of it.
+
+He selected it carefully from the other coins, and slipped it into
+his vest pocket.
+
+Ellen ran to meet him as he entered the house.
+
+"What do you think I have brought you, Ellen?" said her father,
+smiling.
+
+"Do tell me quick," said the child, eagerly.
+
+"What if I should tell you it was a silver dollar?"
+
+"Oh, father, thank you," and Ellen ran to show it to her mother.
+
+"You got it at the shop?" asked his wife.
+
+"Yes," said the baker; "I received it from a little girl about the
+size of Ellen, and I suppose it was that gave me the idea of
+bringing it home to her."
+
+"Was she a pretty little girl?" asked Ellen, interested.
+
+"Yes, she was very attractive. I could not help feeling interested
+in her. I hope she will come again."
+
+This was all that passed concerning Ida at that time. The thought of
+her would have passed from the baker's mind, if it had not been
+recalled by circumstances.
+
+Ellen, like most girls of her age, when in possession of money,
+could not be easy until she had spent it. Her mother advised her to
+lay it away, or perhaps deposit it in some Savings Bank; but Ellen
+preferred present gratification.
+
+Accordingly one afternoon, when walking out with her mother, she
+persuaded her to go into a toy shop, and price a doll which she saw
+in the window. The price was sixty-two cents. Ellen concluded to
+take it, and tendered the silver dollar in payment.
+
+The shopman took it into his hand, glancing at it carelessly at
+first, then scrutinizing it with considerable attention.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Crump. "It is good, isn't it?"
+
+"That is what I am doubtful of," was the reply.
+
+"It is new."
+
+"And that is against it. If it were old, it would be more likely to
+be genuine."
+
+"But you wouldn't (sic) comdemn a piece because it was new?"
+
+"Certainly not; but the fact is, there have been lately many cases
+where spurious dollars have been circulated, and I suspect this is
+one of them. However, I can soon test it."
+
+"I wish you, would," said Mrs. Crump. "My husband took it at his
+shop, and will be likely to take more unless he is placed on his
+guard."
+
+The shopman retired a moment, and then reappeared.
+
+"It is as I thought," he said. "The coin is not good."
+
+"And can't I pass it, then?" said Ellen, disappointed.
+
+"I am afraid not."
+
+"Then I don't see, Ellen," said her mother, "but you will have to
+give up your purchase for to-day. We must tell your father of this."
+
+Mr. Crump was exceedingly surprised at his wife's account.
+
+"Really," he said, "I had no suspicion of this. Can it be possible
+that such a beautiful child could be guilty of such a crime?"
+
+"Perhaps not," said his wife. "She may be as innocent in the matter
+as Ellen or myself."
+
+"I hope so," said the baker; "it would be a pity that such a child
+should be given to wickedness. However, I shall find out before
+long."
+
+"How?"
+
+"She will undoubtedly come again some time, and if she offers me one
+of the same coins I shall know what to think."
+
+Mr. Crump watched daily for the coming of Ida. He waited some days
+in vain. It was not the policy of Peg to send the child too often to
+the same place, as that would increase the chances of detection.
+
+One day, however, Ida entered the shop as before.
+
+"Good morning," said the baker. "What will you have to-day?"
+
+"You may give me a sheet of gingerbread, sir."
+
+The baker placed it in her hands.
+
+"How much will it be?"
+
+"Twelve cents."
+
+Ida offered him another silver dollar.
+
+As if to make change, he stepped from behind the counter, and
+managed to place himself between Ida and the door.
+
+"What is your name, my child?" he asked.
+
+"Ida, sir."
+
+"Ida? A very pretty name; but what is your other name?"
+
+Ida hesitated a moment, because Peg had forbidden her to use the
+name of Crump, and told her if the inquiry was ever made, she must
+answer Hardwick.
+
+She answered, reluctantly, "My name is Ida Hardwick."
+
+The baker observed the hesitation, and this increased his
+suspicions.
+
+"Hardwick!" he repeated, musingly, endeavoring to draw from the
+child as much information as he could before allowing her to
+perceive that he suspected her. "And where do you live?"
+
+Ida was a child of spirit, and did not understand why she should be
+questioned so closely. She said, with some impatience, "I am in a
+hurry, sir, and would like to have you hand me the change as soon as
+you can."
+
+"I have no doubt of it," said the baker, his manner changing; "but
+you cannot go just yet."
+
+"And why not?" asked Ida, her eyes flashing.
+
+"Because you have been trying to deceive me."
+
+"I trying to deceive you!" exclaimed the child, in astonishment.
+
+"Really," thought Mr. Crump, "she does it well, but no doubt they
+train her to it. It is perfectly shocking, such depravity in a
+child."
+
+"Don't you remember buying something here a week ago?" he said, in
+as stern a tone as his good nature would allow him to employ.
+
+"Yes," said Ida, promptly; "I bought two rolls at three cents a
+piece."
+
+"And what did you offer me in payment?"
+
+"I handed you a silver dollar."
+
+"Like this?" asked Mr. Crump, holding up the coin.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And do you mean to say," said the baker, sternly, "that you didn't
+know it was bad when you handed it to me?"
+
+"Bad!" exclaimed Ida, in great surprise.
+
+"Yes, spurious. It wasn't worth one tenth of a dollar."
+
+"And is this like it?"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+"Indeed, sir, I didn't know anything about it," said Ida, earnestly,
+"I hope you will believe me when I say that I thought it was good."
+
+"I don't know what to think," said the baker, perplexed.
+
+"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said he. "Have you any
+other money?"
+
+"That is all I have got."
+
+Of course, I can't let you have the gingerbread. Some would deliver
+you up into the hands of the police. However, I will let you go if
+you will make me one promise."
+
+"Oh, anything, sir."
+
+"You have given me a bad dollar. Will you promise to bring me a good
+one to-morrow?"
+
+Ida made the required promise, and was allowed to go.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+DOUBTS AND FEARS.
+
+
+
+
+
+WELL, what kept you so long?" asked Peg, impatiently, as Ida
+rejoined her at the corner of the street, where she had been waiting
+for her. "And where's your gingerbread?"
+
+"He wouldn't let me have it," said Ida.
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Because he said the money wasn't good."
+
+"Stuff! it's good enough," said Peg, hastily. "Then we must go
+somewhere else."
+
+"But he said the dollar I gave him last week wasn't good, and I
+promised to bring him another to-morrow, or he wouldn't have let me
+go."
+
+"Well, where are you going to get your dollar to carry him?"
+
+"Why, won't you give it to me?" said Ida, hesitatingly.
+
+"Catch me at such nonsense! But here we are at another shop. Go in
+and see whether you can do any better there. Here's the money."
+
+"Why, it's the same piece."
+
+"What if it is?"
+
+"I don't want to pass bad money."
+
+"Tut, what hurt will it do?"
+
+"It is the same as stealing."
+
+"The man won't lose anything. He'll pass it off again."
+
+"Somebody'll have to lose it by and by," said Ida, whose truthful
+perceptions saw through the woman's sophistry.
+
+"So you've taken up preaching, have you?" said Peg, sneeringly.
+"Maybe you know better than I what is proper to do. It won't do to
+be so mighty particular, and so you'll find out if you live with me
+long."
+
+"Where did you take the dollar?" asked Ida, with a sudden thought;
+"and how is it that you have so many of them?"
+
+"None of your business," said her companion, roughly. "You shouldn't
+pry into the affairs of other people."
+
+"Are you going to do as I told you?" she demanded, after a moment's
+pause.
+
+"I can't," said Ida, pale but resolute.
+
+"You can't," repeated Peg, furiously. "Didn't you promise to do
+whatever I told you?"
+
+"Except what was wicked," interrupted Ida.
+
+"And what business have you to decide what is wicked? Come home with
+me."
+
+Peg, walked in sullen silence, occasionally turning round to scowl
+upon the unfortunate child, who had been strong enough, in her
+determination to do right, to resist successfully the will of the
+woman whom she had every reason to dread.
+
+Arrived at home, Peg walked Ida into the room by the shoulder.
+
+Dick was lounging in a chair, with the inevitable pipe in his mouth.
+
+"Hilloa!" said he, lazily, observing his wife's movements, "what's
+the gal been doing, hey?"
+
+"What's she been doing?" repeated Peg; "I should like to know what
+she hasn't been doing. She's refused to go in and buy some
+gingerbread of the baker, as I told her."
+
+"Look here, little gal," said Dick, in a moralizing vein, "isn't
+this rayther undootiful conduct on your part? Ain't it a piece of
+ingratitude, when we go to the trouble of earning the money to pay
+for gingerbread for you to eat, that you ain't willing to go in and
+buy it?"
+
+"I would just as lieves go in," said Ida, "if Peg would give me good
+money to pay for it."
+
+"That don't make any difference," said the admirable moralist; "jest
+do as she tells you, and you'll do right. She'll take the risk."
+
+"I can't!" said the child.
+
+"You hear her?" said Peg.
+
+"Very improper conduct!" said Dick, shaking his head. "Put her in
+the closet."
+
+So Ida was incarcerated once more in the dark closet. Yet, in the
+midst of her desolation, there was a feeling of pleasure in thinking
+that she was suffering for doing right.
+
+When Ida failed to return on the expected day, the Crumps, though
+disappointed, did not think it strange.
+
+"If I were her mother," said Mrs. Crump, "and had been parted from
+her so long, I should want to keep her as long as I could. Dear
+heart! how pretty she is, and how proud her mother must be of her!"
+
+"It's all a delusion," said Aunt Rachel, shaking her head. "It's all
+a delusion. I don't believe she's got a mother at all. That Mrs.
+Hardwick is an imposter. I knew it, and told you so at the time, but
+you wouldn't believe me. I never expect to set eyes on Ida again in
+this world."
+
+"I do," said Jack, confidently.
+
+"There's many a hope that's doomed to disappointment," said Aunt
+Rachel.
+
+"So there is," said Jack. "I was hoping mother would have
+apple-pudding for dinner to-day, but she didn't."
+
+The next day passed, and still no tidings of Ida. There was a cloud
+of anxiety, even upon Mr. Crump's usually placid face, and he was
+more silent than usual at the evening meal.
+
+At night, after Rachel and Jack had both retired, he said,
+anxiously, "What do you think is the cause of Ida's prolonged
+absence, Mary?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Crump, seriously. "It seems to me, if her
+mother wanted te keep her longer than the time she at first
+proposed, it would be no more than right that she should write us a
+line. She must know that we would feel anxious."
+
+"Perhaps she is so taken up with Ida that she can think of nothing
+else."
+
+"It may be so; but if we neither see Ida to-morrow, nor hear from
+her, I shall be seriously troubled."
+
+"Suppose she should never come back," said the cooper, sadly.
+
+"Oh, husband, don't think of such a thing," said his wife,
+distressed.
+
+"We must contemplate it as a possibility," returned Timothy,
+gravely, "though not, I hope, as a probability. Ida's mother has an
+undoubted right to her; a better right than any we can urge."
+
+"Then it would be better," said his wife, tearfully, "if she had
+never been placed in our charge. Then we should not have had the
+pain of parting with her."
+
+"Not so, Mary," said the cooper, seriously. "We ought to be grateful
+for God's blessings, even if he suffers us to possess them but a
+short time. And Ida has been a blessing to us, I am sure. How many
+hours have been made happy by her childish prattle! how our hearts
+have been filled with cheerful happiness and affection when we have
+gazed upon her! That can't be taken from us, even if she is, Mary.
+There's some lines I met with in the paper, to-night, that express
+just what I feel. Let me find them."
+
+The cooper put on his spectacles, and hunted slowly down the columns
+of the paper, till he came to these beautiful lines of Tennyson,
+which he read aloud,--
+
+  "I hold it true, whate'er befall;
+  I feel it when I sorrow most;
+  'Tis better to have loved and lost,
+  Than never to have loved at all."
+
+"There, wife," said he, as he laid down the paper; "I don't know who
+writ them lines, but I'm sure it's some one that's met with a great
+sorrow, and conquered it."
+
+"They are beautiful," said his wife, after a pause; "and I dare say
+you're right, Timothy; but I hope we mayn't have reason to learn the
+truth of them by experience. After all, it isn't certain but that
+Ida will come back. We are troubling ourselves too soon."
+
+"At any rate," said the cooper, "there is no doubt that it is our
+duty to take every means to secure Ida if we can. Of course, if her
+mother insists upon keeping her, we can't say anything; but we ought
+to be sure, before we yield her up, that such is the case."
+
+"What do you mean, Timothy?" asked Mrs. Crump, with anxious
+interest.
+
+"I don't know as I ought to mention it," said her husband. "Very
+likely there isn't anything in it, and it would only make you feel
+more anxious."
+
+"You have already aroused my anxiety," said his wife. "I should feel
+better if you would tell me."
+
+"Then I will," said the cooper. "I have sometimes doubted," he
+continued, lowering his voice, "whether Ida's mother really sent for
+her."
+
+"And the letter?" queried Mrs. Crump, looking less surprised than he
+supposed she would.
+
+"I thought--mind it is only a guess on my part--that Mrs. Hardwick
+might have got somebody to write it for her."
+
+"It is very singular," murmured Mrs. Crump, in a tone of
+abstraction.
+
+"What is singular?"
+
+"Why, the very same thought occurred to me. Somehow, I couldn't help
+feeling a little suspicious of Mrs. Hardwick, though perhaps
+unjustly. But what object could she have in obtaining possession of
+Ida?"
+
+"That I cannot conjecture; but I have come to one determination."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"Unless we learn something of Ida within a week from the time she
+left here, I shall go on to Philadelphia, or send Jack, and endeavor
+to get track of her."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AUNT RACHEL'S MISHAPS.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE week which had been assigned by Mr. Crump slipped away, and
+still no tidings of Ida. The house seemed lonely without her. Not
+until then, did they understand how largely she had entered into
+their life and thoughts. But worse even, than the sense of loss, was
+the uncertainty as to her fate.
+
+When seven days had passed the cooper said, "It is time that we took
+some steps about finding Ida. I had intended to go to Philadelphia
+myself, to make inquiries about her, but I am just now engaged upon
+a job which I cannot very well leave, and so I have concluded to
+send Jack."
+
+"When shall I start?" exclaimed Jack, eagerly.
+
+"To-morrow morning," answered his father, "and you must take clothes
+enough with you to last several days, in case it should be
+necessary."
+
+"What good do you suppose it will do, Timothy," broke in Rachel, "to
+send such a mere boy as Jack?"
+
+"A mere boy!" repeated her nephew, indignantly.
+
+"A boy hardly sixteen years old," continued Rachel. "Why, he'll need
+somebody to take care of him. Most likely you'll have to go after
+him."
+
+"What's the use of provoking a fellow so, Aunt Rachel?" said Jack.
+"You know I'm most eighteen. Hardly sixteen! Why, I might as well
+say you're hardly forty, when everybody knows you're most fifty."
+
+"Most fifty!" ejaculated the scandalized spinster. "It's a base
+slander. I'm only forty-three."
+
+"Maybe I'm mistaken," said Jack, carelessly. "I didn't know exactly.
+I only judged from your looks."
+
+"'Judge not that ye be not judged!'" said Rachel, whom this
+explanation was not likely to appease. "The world is full of calumny
+and misrepresentation. I've no doubt you would like to shorten my
+days upon the earth, but I sha'n't live long to trouble any of you.
+I feel that, ere the summer of life is over, I shall be gathered
+into the garden of the Great Destroyer."
+
+At this point, Rachel applied a segment of a pocket-handkerchief to
+her eyes; but unfortunately, owing to circumstances, the effect,
+instead of being pathetic, as she had intended, was simply
+ludicrous.
+
+It so happened that a short time previous the inkstand had been
+partially spilled on the table, and this handkerchief had been used
+to sop it up. It had been placed inadvertently on the window-seat,
+where it had remained till Rachel, who sat beside the window, called
+it into requisition. The ink upon it was by no means dry. The
+consequence was that, when Rachel removed it from her eyes, her face
+was found to be covered with ink in streaks,--mingling with the
+tears that were falling, for Rachel always had tears at her command.
+
+The first intimation the luckless spinster had of her misfortune,
+was conveyed in a stentorian laugh from Jack, whose organ of
+mirthfulness, marked _very large_ by the phrenologist, could not
+withstand such a provocation to laughter.
+
+He looked intently at the dark traces of sorrow upon his aunt's
+face, of which she was yet unconscious--and doubling up, went into a
+perfect paroxysm of laughter.
+
+Aunt Rachel looked equally amazed and indignant.
+
+"Jack!" said his mother, reprovingly, for she had not observed the
+cause of his amusement. "It's improper for you to laugh at your aunt
+in such a rude manner."
+
+"Oh, I can't help it, mother. It's too rich! Just look at her," and
+Jack went off into another paroxysm.
+
+Thus invited, Mrs. Crump did look, and the rueful expression of
+Rachel, set off by the inky stains, was so irresistibly comical,
+that, after a little struggle, she too gave way, and followed Jack's
+example.
+
+Astounded and indignant at this unexpected behavior of her
+sister-in-law, Rachel burst into a fresh fit of weeping, and again
+had recourse to the handkerchief.
+
+"I've stayed here long enough, if even my sister-in-law, as well as
+my own nephew, from whom I expect nothing better, makes me her
+laughing-stock. Brother Timothy, I can no longer remain in your
+dwelling to be laughed at; I will go to the poor-house, and end my
+life as a pauper. If I only receive Christian burial, when I leave
+the world, it will be all I hope or expect from my relatives, who
+will be glad enough to get rid of me."
+
+The second application of the handkerchief had so increased the
+effect, that Jack found it impossible to check his laughter, while
+the cooper, whose attention was now for the first time drawn to his
+sister's face, burst out in a similar manner.
+
+This more amazed Rachel than even Mrs. Crump's merriment.
+
+"Even you, Timothy, join in ridiculing your sister!" she exclaimed,
+in an 'Et tu Brute,' tone.
+
+"We don't mean to ridicule you, Rachel," gasped Mrs. Crump, with
+difficulty, "but we can't help laughing----"
+
+"At the prospect of my death," uttered Rachel. "Well, I'm a poor
+forlorn creetur, I know; I haven't got a friend in the world. Even
+my nearest relations make sport of me, and when I speak of dying
+they shout their joy to my face."
+
+"Yes," gasped Jack, "that's it exactly. It isn't your death we're
+laughing at, but your face."
+
+"My face!" exclaimed the insulted spinster. "One would think I was a
+fright, by the way you laugh at it."
+
+So you are," said Jack, in a state of semi-strangulation.
+
+"To be called a fright to my face!" shrieked Rachel, "by my own
+nephew! This is too much. Timothy, I leave your house forever."
+
+The excited maiden seized her hood, which was hanging from a nail,
+and hardly knowing what she did, was about to leave the house with
+no other protection, when she was arrested in her progress towards
+the door by the cooper, who stifled his laughter sufficiently to
+say: "Before you go, Rachel, just look in the glass."
+
+Mechanically his sister did look, and her horrified eyes rested upon
+a face which streaked with inky spots and lines seaming it in every
+direction.
+
+In her first confusion, Rachel did not understand the nature of her
+mishaps, but hastily jumped to the conclusion that she had been
+suddenly stricken by some terrible disease like the plague, whose
+ravages in London she had read of with the interest which one of her
+melancholy temperament might be expected to find in it.
+
+Accordingly she began to wring her hands in an excess of terror, and
+exclaimed in tones of piercing anguish,--
+
+"It is the fatal plague spot! I feel it; I know it! I am marked for
+the tomb. The sands of my life are fast running out!"
+
+Jack broke into a fresh burst of merriment, so that an observer
+might, not without reason, have imagined him to be in imminent
+danger of suffocation.
+
+"You'll kill me, Aunt Rachel; I know you will," he gasped out.
+
+"You may order my coffin, Timothy," said Rachel, in a sepulchral
+tone. "I sha'n't live twenty-four hours. I've felt it coming on for
+a week past. I forgive you for all your ill-treatment. I should like
+to have some one go for the doctor, though I know I'm past help. I
+will go up to my chamber."
+
+"I think," said the cooper, trying to look sober, "that you will
+find the cold-water treatment efficacious in removing the
+plague-spots, as you call them."
+
+Rachel turned towards him with a puzzled look. Then, as her eyes
+rested, for the first time, upon the handkerchief which she had
+used, its appearance at once suggested a clew by which she was
+enabled to account for her own.
+
+Somewhat ashamed of the emotion which she had betrayed, as well as
+the ridiculous figure which she had cut, she left the room abruptly,
+and did not make her appearance again till the next morning.
+
+After this little episode, the conversation turned upon Jack's
+approaching journey.
+
+"I don't know," said his mother, "but Rachel is right. Perhaps Jack
+isn't old enough, and hasn't had sufficient experience to undertake
+such a mission."
+
+"Now, mother," expostulated Jack, "you ain't going to side against
+me, are you?"
+
+"There is no better plan," said Mr. Crump, quietly, "and I have
+sufficient confidence in Jack's shrewdness and intelligence to
+believe he may be trusted in this business."
+
+Jack looked gratified by this tribute to his powers and capacity,
+and determined to show that he was deserving of his father's
+favorable opinion.
+
+The preliminaries were settled, and it was agreed that he should set
+out early the next morning. He went to bed with the brightest
+anticipations, and with the resolute determination to find Ida if
+she was anywhere in Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE FLOWER-GIRL.
+
+
+
+
+
+HENRY BOWEN was a young artist of moderate talent, who had abandoned
+the farm, on which he had labored as a boy, for the sake of pursuing
+his favorite profession. He was not competent to achieve the highest
+success. The foremost rank in his profession was not for him. But he
+had good taste, a correct eye, and a skilful hand, and his
+productions were pleasing and popular. A few months before his
+introduction to the reader's notice, he had formed a connection with
+a publisher of prints and engravings, who had thrown considerable
+work in his way.
+
+"Have you any new commission this morning?" inquired the young
+artist, on the day before Ida's discovery that she had been employed
+to pass off spurious coins.
+
+"Yes," said the publisher, "I have thought of something which I
+think may prove attractive. Just at present, the public seem fond of
+pictures of children in different characters. I should like to have
+you supply me with a sketch of a flower-girl, with, say, a basket of
+flowers in her hand. The attitude and incidentals I will leave to
+your taste. The face must, of course, be as beautiful and expressive
+as you can make it, where regularity of features is not sufficient.
+Do you comprehend my idea?"
+
+"I believe I do," said the young man, "and hope to be able to
+satisfy you."
+
+The young artist went home, and at once set to work upon the task he
+had undertaken. He had conceived that it would be an easy one, but
+found himself mistaken. Whether because his fancy was not
+sufficiently lively, or his mind was not in tune, he was unable to
+produce the effect he desired. The faces which he successively
+outlined were all stiff, and though perhaps sufficiently regular in
+feature, lacked the great charm of being expressive and life-like.
+
+"What is the matter with me?" he exclaimed, impatiently, throwing
+down his pencil. "Is it impossible for me to succeed? Well, I will
+be patient, and make one trial more."
+
+He made another trial, that proved as unsatisfactory as those
+preceding.
+
+"It is clear," he decided, "that I am not in the vein. I will go out
+and take a walk, and perhaps while I am in the street something will
+strike me."
+
+He accordingly donned his coat and hat, and, descending, emerged
+into the great thoroughfare, where he was soon lost in the throng.
+It was only natural that, as he walked, with his task still in his
+thoughts, he should scrutinize carefully the faces of such young
+girls as he met.
+
+"Perhaps," it occurred to him, "I may get a hint from some face I
+may see. That will be better than to depend upon my fancy. Nothing,
+after all, is equal to the masterpieces of Nature."
+
+But the young artist was fastidious. "It is strange," he thought,
+"how few there are, even in the freshness of childhood, that can be
+called models of beauty. That child, for example, has beautiful eyes
+but a badly-cut mouth, Here is one that would be pretty, if the face
+was rounded out; and here is a child, Heaven help it! that was
+designed to be beautiful, but want and unfavorable circumstances
+have pinched and cramped it."
+
+It was at this point in the artist's soliloquy that, in turning the
+corner of a street, he came upon Peg and Ida.
+
+Henry Bowen looked earnestly at the child's face, and his own
+lighted up with pleasure, as one who stumbles upon success just as
+he has despaired of it.
+
+"The very face I have been looking for!" he exclaimed to himself.
+"My flower-girl is found at last!"
+
+He turned round, and followed Ida and her companion. Both stopped at
+a shop-window to examine some articles which were exhibited there.
+This afforded a fresh opportunity to examine Ida's face.
+
+"It is precisely what I want," he murmured. "Now the question comes
+up, whether this woman, who, I suppose, is the girl's attendant,
+will permit me to copy her face."
+
+The artist's inference that Peg was merely Ida's attendant, was
+natural, since the child was dressed in a style quite superior to
+her companion. Peg thought that in this way she should be more
+likely to escape suspicion when occupied in passing spurious coin.
+
+The young man followed the strangely-assorted pair to the apartments
+which Peg occupied. From the conversation which he overheard he
+learned that he had been mistaken in his supposition as to the
+relation between the two, and that, singular as it seemed, Peg had
+the guardianship of the child. This made his course clearer. He
+mounted the stairs, and knocked at the door.
+
+"What do you want?" said a sharp voice from within.
+
+"I should like to see you a moment," was the reply.
+
+Peg opened the door partially, and regarded the young man
+suspiciously.
+
+"I don't know you," she said, shortly. "I never saw you before."
+
+"I presume not," said the young man. "We have never met, I think. I
+am an artist."
+
+"That is a business I don't know anything about," said Peg,
+abruptly. "You've come to the wrong place. I don't want to buy any
+pictures. I've got plenty of other ways to spend my money."
+
+Certainly, Mrs. Hardwick, to give her the name she once claimed, did
+not look like a patron of the arts.
+
+"You have a young girl, about eight or nine years old, living with
+you," said the artist.
+
+"Who told you that?" queried Peg, her suspicions at once roused.
+
+"No one told me. I saw her with you in the street."
+
+Peg at once conceived the idea that her visitor was aware of the
+fact that that the child was stolen--possibly he might be acquainted
+with the Crumps, or might be their emissary. She therefore answered,
+shortly,--
+
+"People that are seen walking together don't always live together."
+
+"But I saw the child entering this house with you."
+
+"What if you did?" demanded Peg, defiantly.
+
+"I was about," said the artist, perceiving that he was
+misapprehended, and desiring to set matters right, "I was about to
+make a proposition which might prove advantageous to both of us."
+
+"Eh!" said Peg, catching at the hint. "Tell me what it is, and
+perhaps we may come to terms."
+
+"It is simply this," said Bowen, "I am, as I told you, an artist.
+Just now I am employed to sketch a flower-girl, and in seeking for a
+face such as I wished to sketch from, I was struck by that of your
+child."
+
+"Of Ida?"
+
+"Yes, if that is her name. I will pay you five dollars for the
+privilege of copying it."
+
+Peg was fond of money, and the prospect of earning five dollars
+through Ida's instrumentality, so easily, blinded her to the
+possibility that this picture might prove a means of discovery to
+her friends.
+
+"Well," said she, more graciously, "if that's all you want, I don't
+know as I have any objections. I suppose you can copy her face here
+as well as anywhere."
+
+"I should prefer to have her come to my studio."
+
+"I sha'n't let her come," said Peg, decidedly.
+
+"Then I will consent to your terms, and come here."
+
+"Do you want to begin now?"
+
+"I should like to do so."
+
+"Come in, then. Here, Ida, I want you."
+
+"Yes, Peg."
+
+"This young man wants to copy your face."
+
+Ida looked surprised.
+
+"I am an artist," said the young man, with a reassuring smile. "I
+will endeavor not to try your patience too much. Do you think you
+can stand still for half an hour, without much fatigue?"
+
+Ida was easily won by kindness, while she had a spirit which was
+roused by harshness. She was prepossessed at once in favor of the
+young man, and readily assented.
+
+He kept her in pleasant conversation while with a free, bold hand,
+he sketched the outlines of her face and figure.
+
+"I shall want one more sitting," he said. "I will come to-morrow at
+this time."
+
+"Stop a minute," said Peg. "I should like the money in advance. How
+do I know that you will come again?"
+
+"Certainly, if you prefer it," said the young man, opening his
+pocket-book.
+
+"What strange fortune," he thought, "can have brought these two
+together? Surely there can be no relationship."
+
+The next day he returned and completed his sketch, which was at once
+placed in the hands of the publisher, eliciting his warm approval.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+JACK OBTAINS INFORMATION.
+
+
+
+
+
+JACK set out with that lightness of heart and keen sense of
+enjoyment that seem natural to a young man of eighteen on his first
+journey. Partly by cars, partly by boat, he traveled, till in a few
+hours he was discharged, with hundreds of others, at the depot in
+Philadelphia.
+
+Among the admonitions given to Jack on leaving home, one was
+prominently in his mind, to beware of imposition, and to be as
+economical as possible.
+
+Accordingly he rejected all invitations to ride, and strode along,
+with his carpet-bag in hand, though, sooth to say, he had very
+little idea whether he was steering in the right direction for his
+uncle's shop. By dint of diligent and persevering inquiry he found
+it at length, and, walking in, announced himself to the worthy baker
+as his nephew Jack.
+
+"What, are you Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Abel Crump, pausing in his
+labor; "well, I never should have known you, that's a fact. Bless
+me, how you've grown! Why, you're most as big as your father, ain't
+you?"
+
+"Only half an inch shorter," returned Jack, complacently.
+
+"And you're--let me see, how old are you?"
+
+"Eighteen, that is, almost; I shall be in two months."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to see you, Jack, though I hadn't the least idea of
+your raining down so unexpectedly. How's your father and mother and
+Rachel, and your adopted sister?"
+
+"Father and mother are pretty well," answered Jack, "and so is Aunt
+Rachel," he added, smiling; "though she ain't so cheerful as she
+might be."
+
+"Poor Rachel!" said Abel, smiling also, "all things look upside down
+to her. I don't suppose she's wholly to blame for it. Folks differ
+constitutionally. Some are always looking on the bright side of
+things, and others can never see but one side, and that's the dark
+one."
+
+"You've hit it, uncle," said Jack, laughing. "Aunt Rachel always
+looks as if she was attending a funeral."
+
+"So she is, my boy," said Abel Crump, gravely, "and a sad funeral it
+is."
+
+"I don't understand you, uncle."
+
+"The funeral of her affections,--that's what I mean. Perhaps you
+mayn't know that Rachel was, in early life, engaged to be married to
+a young man whom she ardently loved. She was a different woman then
+from what she is now. But her lover deserted her just before the
+wedding was to have come off, and she's never got over the
+disappointment. But that isn't what I was going to talk about. You
+haven't told me about your adopted sister."
+
+"That's what I've come to Philadelphia about," said Jack, soberly.
+"Ida has been carried off, and I've been sent in search of her."
+
+"Been carried off!" exclaimed his uncle, in amazement. "I didn't
+know such things ever happened in this country. What do you mean?"
+
+In answer to this question Jack told the story of Mrs. Hardwick's
+arrival with a letter from Ida's mother, conveying the request that
+the child might, under the guidance of the messenger, be allowed to
+pay her a visit. To this, and the subsequent details, Abel Crump
+listened with earnest attention.
+
+"So you have reason to think the child is in (sic) Phildelphia?" he
+said, musingly.
+
+"Yes," said Jack, "Ida was seen in the cars, coming here, by a boy
+who knew her in New York."
+
+"Ida!" repeated his Uncle Abel, looking up, suddenly.
+
+"Yes. You know that's my sister's name, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I dare say I have known it; but I have heard so little of your
+family lately, that I had forgotten it. It is rather a singular
+circumstance."
+
+"What is singular!"
+
+"I will tell you," said his uncle. It may not amount to anything,
+however. A few days since, a little girl came into my shop to buy a
+small amount of bread. I was at once favorably impressed with her
+appearance. She was neatly dressed, and had a very sweet face."
+
+"What was her name?" inquired Jack.
+
+"That I will tell you by and by. Having made the purchase, she
+handed me in payment a silver dollar. 'I'll keep that for my little
+girl,' thought I at once. Accordingly, when I went home at night, I
+just took the dollar out the till, and gave it to her. Of course she
+was delighted with it, and, like a child, wanted to spend it at
+once. So her mother agreed to go out with her the next day. Well,
+they selected some nicknack or other, but when they came to pay for
+it the dollar proved to be spurious."
+
+"Spurious!"
+
+"Yes, bad. Got up, no doubt, by a gang of coiners. When they told me
+of this I thought to myself, 'Can it be that this little girl knew
+what she was about when she offered me that money?' I couldn't think
+it possible, but decided to wait till she came again."
+
+"Did she come again?"
+
+"Yes, only day before yesterday. This time she wanted some
+gingerbread, so she said. As I thought likely, she offered me
+another dollar just like the other. Before letting her know that I
+had discovered the imposition I asked her one or two questions, with
+the idea of finding out as much as possible about her. When I told
+her the coin was a bad one, she seemed very much surprised. It might
+have been all acting, but I didn't think so then. I even felt pity
+for her and let her go on condition that she would bring me back a
+good dollar in place of the bad one the next day. I suppose I was a
+fool for doing so, but she looked so pretty and innocent that I
+couldn't make up my mind to speak or harshly to her. But I'm afraid
+that I was deceived, and that she is an artful character, after
+all."
+
+"Then she didn't come back with the good money?" said Jack.
+
+"No, I haven't seen her since; and, what's more, I don't think it
+very likely she will venture into my shop at present."
+
+"What name did she give you?" asked Jack.
+
+"Haven't I told you? It was the name that made me think of telling
+you. It was Ida Hardwick."
+
+"Ida Hardwick!" exclaimed Jack, bounding from his chair, somewhat to
+his uncle's alarm.
+
+"Yes, Ida Hardwick. But that hasn't anything to do with your Ida,
+has it?"
+
+"Hasn't it, though?" said Jack. "Why, Mrs. Hardwick was the woman
+that carried her away."
+
+"Mrs. Hardwick--her mother!"
+
+"No, not her mother. She was, or at least she said she was, the
+woman that took care of Ida before she was brought to us."
+
+"Then you think that Ida Hardwick may be your missing sister?"
+
+"That's what I don't know," said Jack. "If you would only describe
+her, Uncle Abel, I could tell better."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Abel Crump, thoughtfully, "I should say this little
+girl might be eight or nine years old."
+
+"Yes," said Jack, nodding; "what color were her eyes?"
+
+"Blue."
+
+"So are Ida's."
+
+"A small mouth, with a very sweet expression."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I believe her dress was a light one, with a blue ribbon about
+her waist. She also had a brown scarf about her neck, if I remember
+rightly."
+
+"That is exactly the way Ida was dressed when she went away. I am
+sure it must be she."
+
+"Perhaps," suggested his uncle, "this woman, though calling herself
+Ida's nurse, was really her mother."
+
+"No, it can't be," said Jack, vehemently. "What, that ugly,
+disagreeable woman, Ida's mother! I won't believe it. I should just
+as soon expect to see strawberries growing on a thorn-bush. There
+isn't the least resemblance between them."
+
+"You know I have not seen Mrs. Hardwick, so I cannot judge on that
+point."
+
+"No great loss," said Jack. "You wouldn't care much about seeing her
+again. She is a tall, gaunt, disagreeable looking woman; while Ida
+is fair, and sweet looking. I didn't fancy this Mrs. Hardwick when I
+first set eyes on her. Aunt Rachel was right, for once."
+
+"What did she think?"
+
+"She took a dislike to her, and declared that it was only a plot to
+get possession of Ida; but then, that was what we expected of Aunt
+Rachel."
+
+"Still, it seems difficult to imagine any satisfactory motive on the
+part of this woman, supposing she is not Ida's mother."
+
+"Mother, or not," returned Jack, "she's got possession of Ida; and,
+from all that you say, she is not the best person to bring her up. I
+am determined to rescue Ida from this she-dragon. Will you help me,
+uncle?"
+
+"You may count upon me, Jack, for all I can do."
+
+"Then," said Jack, with energy, "we shall succeed. I feel sure of
+it. 'Where there's a will there's a way,' you know."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+FINESSE.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE next thing to be done by Jack was, of course, in some way to
+obtain a clew to the whereabouts of Peg, or Mrs. Hardwick, to use
+the name by which he knew her. No mode of proceeding likely to
+secure this result occurred to him, beyond the very obvious one of
+keeping in the street as much as possible, in the hope that chance
+might bring him face to face with the object of his pursuit.
+
+Fortunately her face was accurately daguerreotyped in his memory, so
+that he felt certain of recognizing her, under whatever
+circumstances they might meet.
+
+In pursuance of this, the only plan which suggested itself, Jack
+became a daily promenader in Chestnut and other streets. Many
+wondered what could be the object of the young man who so
+persistently frequented the thoroughfares. It was observed that,
+while he paid no attention to young ladies, he scrutinized the faces
+of all middle-aged or elderly women whom he met, a circumstance
+likely to attract remark, in the case of a well-made youth like
+Jack.
+
+Several days passed, and, although he only returned to his uncle's
+house at the hour of meals, he had the same report to bring on each
+occasion.
+
+"I am afraid," said the baker, "it will be as hard as finding a
+needle in a hay-stack, to hope to meet the one you seek, among so
+many faces."
+
+"There's nothing like trying," answered Jack, courageously. "I'm not
+going to give up yet awhile."
+
+He sat down and wrote the following note, home:--
+
+"DEAR PARENTS:
+
+"I arrived in Philadelphia safe, and am stopping at Uncle Abel's. He
+received me very kindly. I have got track of Ida, though I have not
+found her yet. I have learned as much as this, that this Mrs.
+Hardwick--who is a double distilled she-rascal--probably has Ida in
+her clutches, and has sent her on two occasions to my uncle's. I am
+spending most of my time in the streets, keeping a good lookout for
+her. If I do meet her, see if I don't get Ida away from her. But it
+may take some time. Don't get discouraged, therefore, but wait
+patiently. Whenever anything new turns up you will receive a line
+from your dutiful son
+
+"JACK."
+
+In reply to this letter, or rather note, Jack received an intimation
+that he was not to cease his efforts as long as a chance remained to
+find Ida.
+
+The very day after the reception of this letter, as Jack was
+sauntering along the street, he suddenly perceived in front of him a
+form which at once reminded him of Mrs. Hardwick. Full of hope that
+this might be so, he bounded forward, and rapidly passed the
+suspected person, turned suddenly round, and confronted Ida's nurse.
+
+The recognition was mutual. Peg was taken aback by this unexpected
+encounter.
+
+"Her first impulse was to make off, but the young man's resolute
+expression warned her that this would prove in vain.
+
+"Mrs. Hardwick!" said Jack.
+
+"You are right," said she, nodding, "and you, if I am not mistaken,
+are John Crump, the son of my worthy friends in New York."
+
+"Well," ejaculated Jack, internally, "if that doesn't beat all for
+coolness."
+
+"My name is Jack," he said, aloud.
+
+"Indeed! I thought it might be a nickname."
+
+"You can't guess what I came here for," said Jack, with an attempt
+at sarcasm, which utterly failed of its effect.
+
+"To see your sister Ida, I presume," said Peg, coolly.
+
+"Yes," said Jack, amazed at the woman's composure.
+
+"I thought some of you would be coming on," said Peg, whose prolific
+genius had already mapped out her course.
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes, it was only natural. But what did your father and mother say
+to the letter I wrote them?"
+
+"The letter you wrote them!"
+
+"The letter in which I wrote that Ida's mother had been so pleased
+with the appearance and manners of her child, that she could not
+resolve to part with her, and had determined to keep her for the
+present."
+
+"You don't mean to say," said Jack, "that any such letter as that
+has been written?"
+
+"What, has it not been received?" inquired Peg, in the greatest
+apparent astonishment.
+
+"Nothing like it," answered Jack. "When was it written?"
+
+"The second day after Ida's arrival," replied Peg, unhesitatingly.
+
+"If that is the case," returned Jack, not knowing what to think, "it
+must have miscarried."
+
+"That is a pity. How anxious you all must have felt!" remarked Peg,
+sympathizingly.
+
+"It seemed as if half the family were gone. But how long does Ida's
+mother mean to keep her?"
+
+"A month or six weeks," was the reply.
+
+"But," said Jack, his suspicions returning, "I have been told that
+Ida has twice called at a baker's shop in this city, and, when asked
+what her name was, answered Ida Hardwick.' You don't mean to say
+that you pretend to be her mother?"
+
+"Yes, I do," returned Peg, calmly.
+
+"It's a lie," said Jack, vehemently. "She isn't your daughter."
+
+"Young man," said Peg, with wonderful self-command, "you are
+exciting yourself to no purpose. You asked me if I _pretended_ to be
+her mother. I do pretend; but I admit, frankly, that it is all
+pretence."
+
+"I don't understand what you mean," said Jack, mystified.
+
+"Then I will take the trouble to explain it to you. As I informed
+your father and mother, when in New York, there are circumstances
+which stand in the way of Ida's real mother recognizing her as her
+own child. Still, as she desires her company, in order to avert all
+suspicion, and prevent embarrassing questions being asked, while she
+remains in Philadelphia she is to pass as my daughter."
+
+This explanation was tolerably plausible, and Jack was unable to
+gainsay it, though it was disagreeable to him to think of even a
+nominal connection between Ida and the woman before him.
+
+"Can I see Ida?" asked Jack, at length.
+
+To his great joy, Peg replied, "I don't think there can be any
+objection. I am going to the house now. Will you come now, or
+appoint some other time?"
+
+"I will go now by all means," said Jack, eagerly. "Nothing should
+stand in the way of seeing Ida."
+
+A grim smile passed over the nurse's face.
+
+"Follow me, then," she said. "I have no doubt Ida will be delighted
+to see you."
+
+"Dear Ida!" said Jack. "Is she well, Mrs. Hardwick?"
+
+"Perfectly well," answered Peg. "She has never been in better health
+than since she has been in Philadelphia."
+
+"I suppose," said Jack, with a pang, "that she is so taken up with
+her new friends that she has nearly forgotten her old friends in New
+York."
+
+"If she did," said Peg, sustaining her part with admirable
+self-possession, "she would not deserve to have friends at all. She
+is quite happy here, but she will be very glad to return to New York
+to those who have been so kind to her."
+
+"Really," thought Jack; "I don't know what to make of this Mrs.
+Hardwick. She talks fair enough, if her looks are against her.
+Perhaps I have misjudged her, after all."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+CAUGHT IN A TRAP.
+
+
+
+
+
+JACK and his guide paused in front of a three-story brick building
+of respectable appearance.
+
+"Docs Ida's mother live here?" interrogated Jack.
+
+"Yes," said Peg, coolly. "Follow me up the steps."
+
+The woman led the way, and Jack followed.
+
+The former rang the bell. An untidy servant girl made her
+appearance.
+
+"We will go up-stairs, Bridget," said Peg.
+
+Without betraying any astonishment, the servant conducted them to an
+upper room, and opened the door.
+
+"If you will go in and take a seat," said Peg, "I will send Ida to
+you immediately."
+
+She closed the door after him, and very softly slipped the bolt
+which had been placed on the outside. She then hastened downstairs,
+and finding the proprietor of the house, who was a little old man
+with a shrewd, twinkling eye, and a long aquiline nose, she said to
+this man, who was a leading spirit among the coiners into whose
+employ she and her husband had entered, "I want you to keep this lad
+in confinement, until I give you notice that it will be safe to let
+him go."
+
+"What has he done?" asked the old man.
+
+"He is acquainted with a secret dangerous to both of us," answered
+Peg, with intentional prevarication; for she knew that, if it were
+supposed that she only had an interest in Jack's detention, they
+would not take the trouble to keep him.
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed the old man; "is that so? Then, I warrant me, he
+can't get out unless he has sharp claws."
+
+"Fairly trapped, my young bird," thought Peg, as she hastened away;
+"I rather think that will put a stop to your troublesome
+interference for the present. You haven't lived quite long enough to
+be a match for old Peg. You'll find that out by and by. Ha, ha!
+won't your worthy uncle, the baker, be puzzled to know why you don't
+come home to-night?"
+
+Meanwhile Jack, wholly unsuspicious that any trick had been played
+upon him, seated himself in a rocking-chair, waiting impatiently for
+the coming of Ida, whom he was resolved to carry back with him to
+New York if his persuasions could effect it.
+
+Impelled by a natural curiosity he examined, attentively, the room
+in which he was seated. It was furnished moderately well; that is,
+as well as the sitting-room of a family in moderate circumstances.
+The floor was covered with a plain carpet. There was a sofa, a
+mirror, and several chairs covered with hair-cloth were standing
+stiffly at the windows. There were one or two engravings, of no
+great artistic excellence, hanging against the walls. On the
+centre-table were two or three books. Such was the room into which
+Jack had been introduced.
+
+Jack waited patiently for twenty minutes. Then he began to grow
+impatient.
+
+"Perhaps Ida is out," thought our hero; "but, if she is, Mrs.
+Hardwick ought to come and let me know."
+
+Another fifteen minutes passed, and still Ida came not.
+
+"This is rather singular," thought Jack. "She can't have told Ida
+that I am here, or I am sure she would rush up at once to see her
+brother Jack."
+
+At length, tired of waiting, and under the impression that he had
+been forgotten, Jack walked to the door, and placing his hand upon
+the latch, attempted to open it.
+
+There was a greater resistance than he had anticipated.
+
+Supposing that it must stick, he used increased exertion, but the
+door perversely refused to open.
+
+"Good heavens!" thought Jack, the real state of the case flashing
+upon him, "is it possible that I am locked in?"
+
+To determine this he employed all his strength, but the door still
+resisted. He could no longer doubt.
+
+He rushed to the windows. There were two in number, and looked out
+upon a court in the rear of the house. No part of the street was
+visible from them; therefore there was no hope of drawing the
+attention of passers-by to his situation.
+
+Confounded by this discovery, Jack sank into his chair in no very
+enviable state of mind.
+
+"Well," thought he, "this is a pretty situation for me to be in! I
+wonder what father would say if he knew that I was locked up like a
+prisoner. And then to think I let that treacherous woman, Mrs.
+Hardwick, lead me so quietly into a snare. Aunt Rachel was about
+right when she said I wasn't fit to come alone. I hope she'll never
+find out this adventure of mine; I never should hear the last of
+it."
+
+Jack's mortification was extreme. His self-love was severely wounded
+by the thought that a woman had got the better of him, and he
+resolved, if he ever got out, that he would make Mrs. Hardwick
+suffer, he didn't quite know how, for the manner in which she had
+treated him.
+
+Time passed. Every hour seemed to poor Jack to contain at least
+double the number of minutes which are usually reckoned to that
+division of time. Moreover, not having eaten for several hours, he
+was getting hungry.
+
+A horrible suspicion flashed across his mind. "The wretches can't
+mean to starve me, can they?" he asked himself, while, despite his
+constitutional courage, he could not help shuddering at the idea.
+
+He was unexpectedly answered by the sliding of a little door in the
+wall, and the appearance of the old man whose interview with Peg has
+been referred to.
+
+"Are you getting hungry, my dear sir?" he inquired, with a
+disagreeable smile upon his features.
+
+"Why am I confined here?" demanded Jack, in a tone of irritation.
+
+"Why are you confined?" repeated his interlocutor. "Really, one
+would think you did not find your quarters comfortable."
+
+"I am so far from finding them comfortable that I insist upon
+leaving them immediately," returned Jack.
+
+"Then all you have got to do is to walk through that door.
+
+"It is locked; I can't open it."
+
+"Can't open it!" repeated the old man, with another disagreeable
+leer; "perhaps, then, it will be well for you to wait till you are
+strong enough."
+
+Irritated by this reply, Jack threw himself spitefully against the
+door, but to no purpose.
+
+"The old man laughed in a cracked, wheezing way.
+
+"Good fellow!" said he, encouragingly. "try it again! Won't you try
+it again? Better luck next time."
+
+Jack throw himself sullenly into a chair.
+
+"Where is the woman that brought me here?" he asked.
+
+"Peg? Oh, she couldn't stay. She had important business to transact,
+my young friend, and so she has gone; but don't feel anxious. She
+commended you to our particular attention, and you will be just as
+well treated as if she were here."
+
+This assurance was not very well calculated to comfort Jack.
+
+"How long are you going to keep me cooped up here?" he asked,
+desperately, wishing to learn the worst at once.
+
+"Really, my young friend, I couldn't say. We are very hospitable,
+very. We always like to have our friends with us as long as
+possible."
+
+Jack groaned internally at the prospect before him.
+
+"One question more," he said, "will you tell me if my sister Ida is
+in this house?"
+
+"Your sister Ida!" repeated the old man, surprised in his turn.
+
+"Yes," said Jack; believing, his astonishment feigned. "You needn't
+pretend that you don't know anything about her. I know that she is
+in your hands."
+
+"Then if you know so much," said the other, shrugging his shoulders,
+"there is no need of asking."
+
+Jack was about to press the question, but the old man, anticipating
+him, pointed to a plate of food which he pushed in upon a shelf,
+just in front of the sliding door, and said: "Here's some supper for
+you. When you get ready to go to bed you can lie down on the sofa.
+Sorry we didn't know of your coming, or we would have got our best
+bed-chamber ready for you. Good-night, and pleasant dreams!"
+
+Smiling disagreeably he slid to the door, bolted it, and
+disappeared, leaving Jack more depressed, if possible, than before.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+JACK IN CONFINEMENT.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE anxiety of Mr. Abel Crump's family, when Jack failed to return
+at night, can be imagined. They feared that he had fallen among
+unscrupulous persons, of whom there is no lack in every large city,
+and that some ill had come to him. The baker instituted immediate
+inquiries, but was unsuccessful in obtaining any trace of his
+nephew. He resolved to delay as long as possible communicating the
+sad intelligence to his brother Timothy, who he knew would be quite
+(sic) overwhelwed by this double blow.
+
+In the mean time, let us see how Jack enjoyed himself. We will look
+in upon him after he has been confined four days. To a youth as
+active as himself, nothing could be more wearisome. It did not add
+to his cheerfulness to reflect that Ida was in the power of the one
+who had brought upon him his imprisonment, while he was absolutely
+unable to help her. He did not lack for food. This was brought him
+three times a day. His meals, in fact, were all he had to look
+forward to, to break the monotony of his confinement. The books upon
+the table were not of a kind likely to interest him, though he had
+tried to find entertainment in them.
+
+Four days he had lived, or rather vegetated in this way. His spirit
+chafed against the confinement.
+
+"I believe," thought he, "I would sooner die than be imprisoned for
+a long term. Yet," and here he sighed, "who knows what may be the
+length of my present confinement? They will be sure to find some
+excuse for retaining me."
+
+While he was indulging in these uncomfortable reflections, suddenly
+the little door in the wall, previously referred to, slid open, and
+revealed the old man who had first supplied him with food. To
+explain the motive of his present visit, it will be remembered that
+he was under a misapprehension in regard to the cause of Jack's
+confinement. He naturally supposed that our hero was acquainted with
+the unlawful practises of the gang of coiners with which he was
+connected.
+
+The old man, whose name was Foley, had been favorably impressed by
+the bold bearing of Jack, and the idea had occurred to him that he
+might be able to win him as an accomplice. He judged, that if once
+induced to join them, he would prove eminently useful. Another
+motive which led him to favor this project was, that it would be
+very embarrassing to be compelled to keep Jack in perpetual custody,
+as well as involve a considerable expense.
+
+Jack was somewhat surprised at the old man's visit.
+
+"How long are you going to keep me cooped up here?" he inquired,
+impatiently.
+
+"Don't you find your quarters comfortable?" asked Foley.
+
+"As comfortable as any prison, I suppose."
+
+"My young friend, don't talk of imprisonment. You make me shudder.
+You must banish all thoughts of such a disagreeable subject."
+
+"I wish I could," groaned poor Jack.
+
+"Consider yourself as my guest, whom I delight to entertain."
+
+"But, I don't like the entertainment."
+
+"The more the pity."
+
+"How long is this going to last? Even a prisoner knows the term of
+his imprisonment."
+
+"My young friend," said Foley, "I do not desire to control your
+inclinations. I am ready to let you go whenever you say the word."
+
+"You are?" returned Jack, incredulously. "Then suppose I ask you to
+let me go immediately."
+
+"Certainly, I will; but upon one condition."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It so happens, my young friend, that you are acquainted with a
+secret which might prove troublesome to me."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Jack, mystified.
+
+"Yes; you see I have found it out. Such things do not escape me."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," returned Jack, perplexed.
+
+"No doubt, no doubt,", said Foley, cunningly. "Of course, if I
+should tell you that I was in the coining business, it would be
+altogether new to you."
+
+"On my honor," said Jack, "this is the first I knew of it. I never
+saw or heard of you before I came into this house."
+
+"Could Peg be mistaken?" thought Foley. "But no, no; he is only
+trying to deceive me. I am too old a bird to be caught with such
+chaff."
+
+"Of course, I won't dispute your word, my young friend," he said,
+softly; "but there is one tiling certain; if you didn't know it
+before you know it now."
+
+"And you are afraid that I shall denounce you to the police."
+
+"Well, there is a possibility of that. That class of people have a
+little prejudice against us, though we are only doing what everybody
+wants to do, _making money_."
+
+The old man chuckled and rubbed his hands at this joke, which he
+evidently considered a remarkably good one.
+
+Jack reflected a moment.
+
+"Will you let me go if I will promise to keep your secret?" he
+asked.
+
+"How could I be sure you would do it?"
+
+"I would pledge my word."
+
+"Your word!" Foley snapped his fingers in derision. "That is not
+sufficient."
+
+"What will be?"
+
+"You must become one of us."
+
+"One of you!"
+
+Jack started in surprise at a proposition so unexpected.
+
+"Yes. You must make yourself liable to the same penalties, so that
+it will be for your own interest to keep silent. Otherwise we cannot
+trust you."
+
+"And suppose I decline these terms," said Jack.
+
+"Then I shall be under the painful necessity of retaining you as my
+guest."
+
+Foley smiled disagreeably.
+
+Jack walked the room in perturbation. He felt that imprisonment
+would be better than liberty, on such terms. At the same time he did
+not refuse unequivocally, as possibly stricter watch than ever night
+be kept over him.
+
+He thought it best to temporize.
+
+"Well, what do you say?" asked the old man.
+
+"I should like to take time to reflect upon your proposal," said
+Jack. "It is of so important a character that I do not like to
+decide at once."
+
+"How long do you require?"
+
+"Two days," returned Jack. "If I should come to a decision sooner, I
+will let you know."
+
+"Agreed. Meanwhile can I do anything to promote your comfort? I want
+you to enjoy yourself as well as you can under the circumstances."
+
+"If you have any interesting books, I wish you would send them up.
+It is rather dull staying here with nothing to do."
+
+"You shall have something to do as soon as you please, my young
+friend. As to books, we are not very bountifully supplied with that
+article. We ain't any of us college graduates, but I will see what I
+can do for you in that way. I'll be back directly."
+
+Foley disappeared, but soon after returned, laden with one or two
+old magazines, and a worn copy of the "Adventures of Baron Trenck."
+
+It may be that the reader has never encountered a copy of this
+singular book. Baron Trenck was several times imprisoned for
+political offences, and this book contains an account of the manner
+in which he succeeded, in some cases after years of labor, in
+breaking from his dungeon. His feats in this way are truly
+wonderful, and, if not true, at least they have so very much
+similitude that they find no difficulty in winning the reader's
+credence.
+
+Such was the book which Foley placed in Jack's hands. He must have
+been in ignorance of the character of the book, since it was evident
+to what thoughts it would lead the mind of the prisoner.
+
+Jack read the book with intense interest. It was just such a one as
+he would have read with avidity under any circumstances. It
+gratified his taste for adventure, and he entered heart and soul
+into the Baron's plans, and felt a corresponding gratification when
+he succeeded. When he completed the perusal of the fascinating
+volume, he thought, "Why cannot I imitate Baron Trenck? He was far
+worse off than I am. If he could succeed in overcoming so many
+obstacles, it is a pity if I cannot find some means of escape."
+
+He looked about the room in the hope that some plan might be
+suggested.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE PRISONER ESCAPES.
+
+
+
+
+
+TO give an idea of the difficulties of Jack's situation, let it be
+repeated that there was but one door to the room, and this was
+bolted on the outside. The room was in the second story. The only
+two windows looked out upon a court. These windows were securely
+fastened. Still a way might have been devised to break through them,
+if this would at all have improved his condition. Of this, however,
+there seemed but little chance. Even if he had succeeded in getting
+safely into the court, there would have been difficulty and danger
+in getting into the street.
+
+All these considerations passed through Jack's mind, and occasioned
+him no little perplexity. He began to think that the redoubtable
+Baron Trenck himself might have been puzzled, if placed under
+similar circumstances.
+
+At length this suggestion occurred to him: Why might he not cut a
+hole through the door, just above or below the bolt, sufficiently
+large for him to thrust his hand through, and slip it back? Should
+he succeed in this, he would steal down stairs, and as, in all
+probability, the key would be in the outside door, he could open it,
+and then he would be free.
+
+With hope springing up anew in his heart, he hastened to the door
+and examined it. It was of common strength. He might, perhaps, have
+been able to kick it open, but of course this was not to be thought
+of, as the noise would at once attract the attention of those
+interested in frustrating his plans.
+
+Fortunately, Jack was provided with a large, sharp jack-knife. He
+did not propose, however, to commence operations at present. In the
+daytime he would be too subject to a surprise. With evening, he
+resolved to commence his work. He might be unsuccessful, and
+subjected, in consequence, to a more rigorous confinement; but of
+this he must run the risk. "Nothing venture, nothing have."
+
+Jack awaited the coming of evening with impatience. The afternoon
+had never seemed so long.
+
+It came at last--a fine moonlight night. This was fortunate, for his
+accommodating host, from motives of economy possibly, was not in the
+habit of providing him with a candle.
+
+Jack thought it prudent to wait till he heard the city clocks
+pealing the hour of twelve. By this time, as far as he could see
+from his windows, there were no lights burning, and all who occupied
+the building were probably asleep.
+
+He selected that part of the door which he judged to be directly
+under the bolt, and began to cut away with his knife. The wood was
+soft, and easy of excavation. In the course of half an hour Jack had
+cut a hole sufficiently large to pass his hand through, but found
+that, in order to reach the bolt, he must enlarge it a little. This
+took him fifteen minutes longer.
+
+His efforts were crowned with success. As the city clock struck one
+Jack softly drew back the bolt, and, with a wild throb of joy, felt
+that freedom was half regained. But his (sic) embarassments were not
+quite at an end. Opening the door, he found himself in the entry,
+but in the darkness. On entering the house he had not noticed the
+location of the stairs, and was afraid that some noise or stumbling
+might reveal to Foley the attempted escape of his prisoner. He took
+off his boots, and crept down-stairs in his stocking feet.
+Unfortunately he had not kept the proper bearing in his mind, and
+the result was, that he opened the door of a room on one side of the
+front door. It was used as a bedroom. At the sound of the door
+opening, the occupant of the bed, Mr. Foley himself, called out,
+drowsily, "Who's there?"
+
+Jack, aware of his mistake, precipitately retired, and concealed
+himself under the front stairs, a refuge which his good fortune led
+him to, for he could see absolutely nothing.
+
+The sleeper, just awakened, was naturally a little confused in his
+ideas. He had not seen Jack. He had merely heard the noise, and
+thought he saw the door moving. But of this he was not certain. To
+make sure, however, he got out of bed, and opening wide the door of
+his room, called out, "Is anybody there?"
+
+Jack had excellent reasons for not wishing to volunteer an answer to
+this question. One advantage of the opened door (for there was a
+small oil lamp burning in the room) was to reveal to him the nature
+of the mistake he had made, and to show him the front door in which,
+by rare good fortune, he could discover the key in the lock.
+
+Meanwhile the old man, to make sure that all was right, went
+up-stairs, far enough to see that the door of the apartment in which
+Jack had been confined was closed. Had he gone up to the landing he
+would have seen the aperture in the door, and discovered the hole,
+but he was sleepy, and anxious to get back to bed, which rendered
+him less watchful.
+
+"All seems right," he muttered to himself, and re-entered the
+bed-chamber, from which Jack could soon hear the deep, regular
+breathing which indicated sound slumber. Not till then did he creep
+cautiously from his place of concealment, and advancing stealthily
+to the front door, turn the key, and step out into the
+faintly-lighted street. A delightful sensation thrilled our hero, as
+he felt the pure air fanning his cheek.
+
+"Nobody can tell," thought he, "what a blessed thing freedom is till
+he has been cooped up, as I have been, for the last week. Won't the
+old man be a little surprised to find, in the morning, that the bird
+has flown? I've a great mind to serve him a little trick."
+
+So saying, Jack drew the key from its place inside, and locking the
+door after him, went off with the key in his. pocket. First,
+however, he took care to scratch a little mark on the outside of the
+door, as he could not see the number, to serve as a means of
+identification.
+
+This done Jack made his way as well as he could guess to the house
+of his uncle, the baker. Not having noticed the way by which Peg had
+led him to the house, he wandered at first from the straight course.
+At length, however, he came to Chestnut Street. He now knew where he
+was, and, fifteen minutes later, he was standing before his uncle's
+door.
+
+Meanwhile, Abel Crump had been suffering great anxiety on account of
+Jack's protracted absence. Several days had now elapsed, and still
+he was missing. He had been unable to find the slightest trace of
+him.
+
+"I am afraid of the worst," he said to his wife, on the afternoon of
+the day on which Jack made his escape. "I think Jack was probably
+rash and imprudent, and I fear, poor boy, they may have proved the
+death of him."
+
+"Don't you think there is any hope? He may be confined."
+
+"It is possible; but, at all events, I don't think it right to keep
+it from Timothy any longer. I've put off writing as long as I could,
+hoping Jack would come back, but I don't feel as if I ought to hold
+it back any longer. I shall write in the morning, and tell Timothy
+to come right on. It'll be a dreadful blow to him."
+
+"Yes, better wait till morning, Abel. Who knows but we may hear from
+Jack before that time?"
+
+The baker shook his head.
+
+"If we'd been going to hear, we'd have heard before this time," he
+said.
+
+He did not sleep very soundly that night. Anxiety for Jack, and the
+thought of his brother's affliction, kept him awake.
+
+About half-past two, he heard a noise at the front door, followed by
+a knocking. Throwing open the window, he exclaimed, "Who's there?"
+
+"A friend," was the answer.
+
+"What friend?" asked the baker, suspiciously. Friends are not very
+apt to come at this time of night."
+
+"Don't you know me, Uncle Abel?" asked a cheery voice.
+
+"Why, it's Jack, I verily believe," said Abel Crump, joyfully, as he
+hurried down stairs to admit his late visitor.
+
+"Where in the name of wonder have you been, Jack?" he asked,
+surveying his nephew by the light of the candle.
+
+"I've been shut up, uncle,--boarded and lodged for nothing,--by some
+people who liked my company better than I liked theirs. But to-night
+I made out to escape, and hero I am. I'll tell you all about it in
+the morning. Just now I'm confoundedly hungry, and if there's
+anything in the pantry, I'll ask permission to go in there a few
+minutes."
+
+"I guess you'll find something, Jack. Take the candle with you.
+Thank God, you're back alive. We've been very anxious about you."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. JOHN SOMERVILLE.
+
+
+
+
+
+PEG had been thinking.
+
+This was the substance of her reflections. Ida, whom she had
+kidnapped for certain purposes of her own, was likely to prove an
+(sic) incumbrance rather than a source of profit. The child, her
+suspicions awakened in regard to the character of the money she had
+been employed to pass off, was no longer available for that purpose.
+So firmly resolved was she not to do what was wrong, that threats
+and persuasions were alike unavailing. Added to this was the danger
+of her encountering some one sent in search of her by the Crumps.
+
+Under these circumstances, Peg bethought herself of the ultimate
+object which she had proposed to herself in kidnapping Ida--that of
+extorting money from a man who is now to be introduced to the
+reader.
+
+John Somerville occupied a suite of apartments in a handsome
+lodging-house on Walnut Street. A man wanting yet several years of
+forty, he looked a greater age. Late hours and dissipation, though
+kept within respectable limits, had left their traces on his face.
+At twenty-one he inherited a considerable fortune, which, combined
+with some professional practice (for he was a lawyer, and not
+without ability), was quite sufficient to support him handsomely,
+and leave a considerable surplus every year. But, latterly, he had
+contracted a passion for gaming, and however shrewd he might be
+naturally, he could hardly be expected to prove a match for the wily
+habitues of the gaming-table, who had marked him as their prey.
+
+The evening before he is introduced to the reader's notice he had,
+passed till a late hour at a fashionable gambling-house, where he
+had lost heavily. His reflections, on awakening, were not of the
+pleasantest. For the first time, within fifteen years, he realized
+the folly and imprudence of the course he had pursued. The evening
+previous he had lost a thousand dollars, for which he had given his
+I O U. Where to raise this money, he did not know. He bathed his
+aching head, and cursed his ill luck, in no measured terms. After
+making his toilet, he rang the bell, and ordered breakfast.
+
+For this he had but scanty appetite. Scarcely had he finished, and
+directed the removal of the dishes, than the servant entered to
+announce a visitor.
+
+"Is it a gentleman?" he inquired, hastily, fearing it might be a
+creditor. He occasionally had such visitors.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"A lady?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"A child? But what could a child want of me?"
+
+"If it's neither a gentleman, lady, nor child," said Somerville,
+somewhat surprised, "will you have the goodness to inform me who it
+is?"
+
+"It's a woman, sir," said the servant, grinning.
+
+"Why didn't you say so when I asked you?" said his employer,
+irritably.
+
+"Because you asked if it was a lady, and this isn't--at least she
+don't look like one."
+
+"You can send her up, whoever she is," said Mr. Somerville.
+
+A moment afterwards Peg entered the apartment.
+
+John Somerville looked at her without much interest, supposing that
+she might be a seamstress, or laundress, or some applicant for
+charity. So many years had passed since he had met with this woman,
+that she had passed out of his remembrance.
+
+"Do you wish to see me about anything?" he asked, indifferently. "If
+so, you must be quick, for I am just going out."
+
+"You don't seem to recognize me, Mr. Somerville," said Peg, fixing
+her keen black eyes upon his face.
+
+"I can't say I do," he replied, carelessly. "Perhaps you used to
+wash for me once."
+
+"I am not in the habit of acting as laundress," said the woman,
+proudly. It is worth noticing that she was not above passing
+spurious coin, and doing other things which are stamped as
+disreputable by the laws of the land, but her pride revolted at the
+imputation that she was a washer-woman.
+
+"In that case," said Somerville, carelessly, "you will have to tell
+me who you are, for it is out of my power to conjecture."
+
+"Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection," said Peg,
+composedly.
+
+"Ida!" repeated John Somerville, changing color, and gazing now with
+attention at the woman's features.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I have known several persons of that name," he said, evasively. "Of
+course, I can't tell which of them you refer to."
+
+"The Ida I mean was and is a child," said Peg. "But, Mr. Somerville,
+there's no use in beating about the bush, when I can come straight
+to the point. It is now about eight years since my husband and
+myself were employed in carrying off a child--a female child of
+about a year old--named Ida. We placed it, according to your
+directions, on the door-step of a poor family in New York, and they
+have since cared for it as their own. I suppose you have not
+forgotten that."
+
+John Somerville deliberated. Should he deny it or not? He decided to
+put a bold face on the matter.
+
+"I remember it," said he, "and now recall your features. How have
+you fared since the time I employed you? Have you found your
+business profitable?"
+
+"Far from it," answered Peg. "We are not yet able to retire on a
+competence."
+
+"One of your youthful appearance," said Solmerville, banteringly,
+"ought not to think of retiring under ten years."
+
+Peg smiled. She knew how to appreciate this speech.
+
+"I don't care for compliments," said she, "even when they are
+sincere. As for my youthful appearance, I am old enough to have
+reached the age of discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into
+my second childhood."
+
+"Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to whatever business has
+brought you here?"
+
+"I want a thousand dollars."
+
+"A thousand dollars!" repeated John Somerville. "Very likely, I
+should like that amount myself. You have not come here to tell me
+that?"
+
+"I have come here to ask that amount of you."
+
+"Suppose I should say that your husband is the proper person for you
+to apply to in such a case."
+
+"I think I am more likely to get it out of you," answered Peg,
+coolly. "My husband couldn't supply me with a thousand cents, even
+if he were willing, which is not likely."
+
+"Much as I am flattered by your application," said Somerville,
+"since it would seem to place me next in your estimation to your
+husband, I cannot help suggesting that it is not usual to bestow
+such a sum on a stranger, or even a friend, without an equivalent
+rendered."
+
+"I am ready to give you an equivalent."
+
+"Of what value?"
+
+"I am willing to be silent."
+
+"And how can your silence benefit me?"
+
+John Somerville asked this question with an assumption of
+indifference, but his fingers twitched nervously.
+
+"That _you_ will be best able to estimate," said Peg.
+
+"Explain yourself."
+
+"I can do that in a few words. You employed me to kidnap a child. I
+believe the law has something to say about that. At any rate, the
+child's mother may have."
+
+"What do you know about the child's mother?" demanded Somerville,
+hastily.
+
+"All about her!" returned Peg, emphatically.
+
+"How am I to know that? It is easy to claim the knowledge."
+
+"Shall I tell you all? In the first place she married your cousin,
+_after rejecting you_. You never forgave her for this. When a year
+after marriage her husband died, you renewed your proposals. They
+were rejected, and you were forbidden to renew the subject on pain
+of forfeiting her friendship forever. You left her presence,
+determined to be revenged. With this object you sought Dick and
+myself, and employed us to kidnap the child. There is the whole
+story, briefly told."
+
+John Somerville listened, with compressed lips and pale face.
+
+"Woman, how came this within your knowledge?" he demanded, coarsely.
+
+"That is of no consequence," said Peg. "It was for my interest to
+find out, and I did so."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I know one thing more--the residence of the child's mother. I
+hesitated this morning whether to come here, or carry Ida to her
+mother, trusting to her to repay from gratitude what I demand from
+you, because it is your interest to comply with my request."
+
+"You speak of carrying the child to her mother. She is in New York."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Peg, coolly. "She is in Philadelphia."
+
+"With you?"
+
+"With me."
+
+"How long has this been?"
+
+"Nearly a fortnight."
+
+John Somerville paced the room with hurried steps. Peg watched him
+carelessly. She felt that she had succeeded. He paused after awhile,
+and stood before her.
+
+"You demand a thousand dollars," he said.
+
+"I do."
+
+"I have not that amount with me. I have recently lost a heavy sum,
+no matter how. But I can probably get it to-day. Call to-morrow at
+this time,--no, in the afternoon, and I will see what I can do for
+you."
+
+"Very well," said Peg.
+
+Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time in reflection.
+Difficulties encompassed him--difficulties from which he found it
+hard to find a way of escape. He knew how impossible it would be to
+meet this woman's demand. Something must be done. Gradually his
+countenance lightened. He had decided what that something should be.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE LAW STEPS IN.
+
+
+
+
+
+WHEN Peg left Mr. John Somerville's apartment, it was with a high
+degree of satisfaction at the result of her interview. She looked
+upon the thousand dollars as sure to be hers. The considerations
+which she had urged would, she was sure, induce him to make every
+effort to secure her silence. With a thousand dollars, what might
+not be done? She would withdraw from the coining-business, for one
+thing. It was too hazardous. Why might not Dick and she retire to
+the country, lease a country-inn, and live an honest life hereafter.
+There were times when she grew tired of the life she lived at
+present. It would be pleasant to go to some place where she was not
+known, and enrol herself among the respectable members of the
+community. She was growing old; she wanted rest and a quiet home.
+Her early years had been passed in the country. She remembered still
+the green fields in which she played as a child, and to this woman,
+old and sin-stained, there came a yearning to have that life return.
+
+It occurred to her to look in upon Jack, whom she had left in
+captivity four days before. She had a curiosity to see how he bore
+his confinement.
+
+She knocked at the door, and was admitted by the old man who kept
+the house. Mr. Foley was looking older and more wrinkled than ever.
+He had been disturbed of his rest the night previous, he said.
+
+"Well," said Peg, "and how is our prisoner?"
+
+"Bless my soul," said Mr. Foley, "I haven't been to give him his
+breakfast this morning. He must be hungry. But my head is in such a
+state. However, I think I've secured him."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I have asked him to become one of us,--he's a bold lad,--and he has
+promised to think of it."
+
+"He is not to be trusted," said Peg, hastily,
+
+"You think not?"
+
+"I know it."
+
+"Well," said the old man, "I suppose you know him better than I do.
+But he's a bold lad."
+
+"I should like to go up and see him," said Peg.
+
+"Wait a minute, and I will carry up his breakfast."
+
+The old man soon reappeared from the basement with some cold meat
+and bread and butter.
+
+"You may go up first," he said; "you are younger than I am."
+
+They reached the landing.
+
+"What's all this?" demanded Peg, her quick eyes detecting the
+aperture in the door.
+
+"What's what?" asked Foley.
+
+"Is this the care you take of your prisoners?" demanded Peg,
+sharply. "It looks as if he had escaped."
+
+"Escaped! Impossible!"
+
+"I hope so. Open the door quick."
+
+The door was opened, and the two hastily entered.
+
+"The bird is flown," said Peg.
+
+"I--I don't understand it," said the old man, turning pale.
+
+"I do. He has cut a hole in the door, slipped back the bolt, and
+escaped. When could this have happened?"
+
+"I don't know. Yes, I do remember, now, being disturbed last night
+by a noise in the entry. I got out of bed, and looked out, but could
+see no one."
+
+"Did you come up-stairs?"
+
+"Part way."
+
+"When was this?"
+
+"Past midnight."
+
+"No doubt that was the time he escaped."
+
+"That accounts for the door being locked," said the old man,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"What door?"
+
+"The outer door. When I got up this morning, I found the key had
+disappeared, and the door was locked. Luckily we had an extra key,
+and so opened it."
+
+"Probably he carried off the other in his pocket."
+
+"Ah, he is a bold lad,--a bold lad," said Foley.
+
+"You may find that out to your cost. He'll be likely to bring the
+police about your ears."
+
+"Do you think so?" said the old man, in alarm.
+
+"I think it more than probable."
+
+"But he don't know the house," said Foley, in a tone of reassurance.
+"It was dark when he left here, and he will not be apt to find it
+again."
+
+"Perhaps not, but lie will be likely to know you when he sees you
+again. I advise you to keep pretty close."
+
+"I certainly shall," said the old man, evidently alarmed by this
+suggestion. "What a pity that such a bold lad shouldn't be in our
+business!"
+
+"Perhaps you'll wish yourself out of it before long," muttered Peg.
+
+As if in corroboration of her words, there was a sharp ring at the
+door-bell.
+
+The old man, who was constitutionally timid, turned pale, and looked
+helplessly at his companion.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, apprehensively.
+
+"Go and see."
+
+"I don't dare to."
+
+"You're a coward," said Peg, contemptuously. "Then I'll go."
+
+She went down stairs, followed by the old man. She threw open the
+street door, but even her courage was somewhat daunted by the sight
+of two police officers, accompanied by Jack.
+
+"That's the man," said Jack, pointing out Foley, who tried to
+conceal himself behind Mrs. Hardwick's more ample proportions.
+
+"I have a warrant for your arrest," said one of the officers,
+advancing to Foley.
+
+"Gentlemen, spare me," he said, clasping his hands. "What have I
+done?"
+
+"You are charged with uttering counterfeit coin.
+
+"I am innocent."
+
+"If you are, that will come out on your trial."
+
+"Shall I have to be tried?" he asked, piteously.
+
+"Of course. If you are innocent, no harm will come to you."
+
+Peg had been standing still, irresolute what to do. Determined upon
+a bold step, she made a movement to pass the officers.
+
+"Stop!" said Jack. "I call upon you to arrest that woman. She is the
+Mrs. Hardwick against whom you have a warrant."
+
+"What is all this for?" demanded Peg, haughtily. "What right have
+you to interfere with me?"
+
+"That will be made known to you in due time. You are suspected of
+being implicated with this man."
+
+"I suppose I must yield," said Peg, sulkily. "But perhaps you, young
+sir," turning to Jack, "may not be the gainer by it."
+
+"Where is Ida?" asked Jack, anxiously.
+
+"She is safe," said Peg, sententiously.
+
+"You won't tell me where she is?"
+
+"No. Why should I? I am indebted to you, I suppose, for this arrest.
+She shall be kept out of your way as long as it is in my power to do
+so."
+
+Jack's countenance fell.
+
+"At least you will tell me whether she is well?"
+
+"I shall answer no questions whatever," said Mrs. Hardwick.
+
+"Then I will find her," he said, gaining courage. "She is somewhere
+in the city, and sooner or later I shall find her."
+
+Peg was not one to betray her feelings, but this arrest was a great
+disappointment to her. Apart from the consequences which might
+result from it, it would prevent her meeting with John Somerville,
+and obtaining from him the thousand dollars of which she had
+regarded herself certain. Yet even from her prison-cell she might
+hold over him _in terrorem_ the threat of making known to Ida's
+mother the secret of her child's existence. All was not lost. She
+walked quietly to the carriage in waiting, while her companions, in
+an ecstasy of terror, seemed to have lost the power of locomotion,
+and had to be supported on either side.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+"THE FLOWER-GIRL."
+
+
+
+
+
+"BY gracious, if that isn't Ida!" exclaimed Jack, in profound
+surprise.
+
+He had been sauntering along Chestnut Street, listlessly, troubled
+by the thought that though he had given Mrs. Hardwick into custody,
+he was apparently no nearer the discovery of his foster-sister than
+before. What steps should he take to find her? He could not decide.
+In his perplexity he came suddenly upon the print of the
+"Flower-Girl."
+
+"Yes," said he, "that is Ida, plain enough. Perhaps they will know
+in the store where she is to be found."
+
+He at once entered the store.
+
+"Can you tell me anything about the girl that picture was taken
+for?" he asked, abruptly of the nearest clerk.
+
+The clerk smiled.
+
+"It is a fancy picture," he said. "I think it would take you a long
+time to find the original."
+
+"It has taken a long time," said Jack. "But you are mistaken. It is
+the picture of my sister."
+
+"Of your sister!" repeated the clerk, with surprise, half
+incredulous.
+
+There was some reason for his incredulity. Jack was a stout,
+good-looking boy, with a pleasant face; but Ida's beauty was of a
+delicate, refined type, which argued gentle birth,--her skin of a
+brilliant whiteness, dashed by a tinge of rose,--exhibiting a
+physical perfection, which it requires several generations of
+refined habits and exemptions from the coarser burdens of life to
+produce. The perfection of human development is not wholly a matter
+of chance, but is dependent, in no small degree, upon outward
+conditions. We frequently see families who have sprung from poverty
+to wealth exhibiting, in the younger branches, marked improvement in
+this respect.
+
+"Yes;" said Jack, "my sister."
+
+"If it is your sister," said the clerk, "you ought to know where she
+is."
+
+Jack was about to reply, when the attention of both was called by a
+surprised exclamation from a lady who had paused beside them. Her
+eyes, also, were fixed upon "The Flower-Girl."
+
+"Who is this?" she asked, hurriedly. "Is it taken from life?"
+
+"This young man says it is his sister," said the clerk.
+
+"Your sister!" said the lady, her eyes bent, inquiringly, upon Jack.
+In her tone, too, there was a slight mingling of surprise, and, as
+it seemed, disappointment.
+
+"Yes, madam," said Jack, respectfully.
+
+"Pardon me," she said, "there is so little family resemblance, I
+should hardly have supposed it."
+
+"She is not my own sister," said Jack, "but I love her just the
+same."
+
+"Do you live in (sic) Philadelphia? Could I see her?" asked the
+lady, eagerly.
+
+"I live in New York, madam," said Jack; "but Ida was stolen from us
+nearly a fortnight since, and I have come here in pursuit of her. I
+have not been able to find her yet."
+
+"Did you say her name was Ida?" demanded the lady, in strange
+agitation.
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"My young friend," said the lady, rapidly, "I have been much
+interested in the story of your sister. I should like to hear more,
+but not here. Would you have any objection to coming home with me,
+and telling me the rest? Then we will, together, concert measures
+for discovering her."
+
+"You are very kind, madam," said Jack, somewhat bashfully; for the
+lady was elegantly dressed, and it had never been his fortune to
+converse with many ladies of her rank; "I shall be very much obliged
+to you for your advice and assistance."
+
+"Then we will drive home at once."
+
+Jack followed her to the street, where he saw an elegant carriage,
+and a coachman in livery.
+
+With natural gallantry, Jack assisted the lady into the carriage,
+and, at her bidding, got in himself.
+
+"Home, Thomas!" she directed the driver; "and drive as fast as
+possible."
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"How old was your sister when your parents adopted her?" asked Mrs.
+Clifton. Jack afterwards ascertained that this was her name.
+
+"About a year old, madam."
+
+"And how long since was it?" asked the lady, bending forward with
+breathless interest.
+
+"Eight years since. She is now nine."
+
+"It must be," said the lady, in a low voice. "If it is indeed so,
+how will my life be blessed!"
+
+"Did you speak, madam?"
+
+"Tell me under what circumstances your family adopted Ida."
+
+Jack related, briefly, the circumstances, which are already familiar
+to the reader.
+
+"And do you recollect the month in which this happened?"
+
+"It was at the close of December, the night before New Years."
+
+"It is--it must be she!" ejaculated the lady, clasping her hands
+while tears of happy joy welled from her eyes.
+
+"I--I do not understand," said Jack.
+
+"My young friend, our meeting this morning seems providential. I
+have every reason to believe that this child--your adopted
+sister--is my daughter, stolen from me by an unknown enemy at the
+time of which you speak. From that day to this I have never been
+able to obtain the slightest clew that might lead to her discovery.
+I have long taught myself to look upon her as dead."
+
+"It was Jack's turn to be surprised. He looked at the lady beside
+him. She was barely thirty. The beauty of her girlhood had ripened
+into the maturer beauty of womanhood. There was the same dazzling
+complexion--the same soft flush upon the cheeks. The eyes, too, were
+wonderfully like Ida's. Jack looked, and what he saw convinced him.
+
+"You must be right," he said. "Ida is very much like you."
+
+"You think so?" said Mrs. Clifton, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"I had a picture--a daguerreotype--taken of Ida just before I lost
+her. I have treasured it carefully. I must show it to you."
+
+The carriage stopped before a stately mansion in a wide and quiet
+street. The driver dismounted, and opened the door. Jack assisted
+Mrs. Clifton to alight.
+
+Bashfully, he followed the lady up the steps, and, at her bidding,
+seated himself in an elegant apartment, furnished with a splendor
+which excited his wonder. He had little time to look about him, for
+Mrs. Clifton, without pausing to take off her street-attire,
+hastened down stairs with an open daguerreotype in her hand.
+
+"Can you remember Ida when she was brought to your house?" she
+asked. "Did she look like this?"
+
+"It is her image," said Jack, decidedly. "I should know it
+anywhere."
+
+"Then there can be no further doubt," said Mrs. Clifton. "It is my
+child whom you have cared for so long. Oh, why could I not have
+known it? How many sleepless nights and lonely days would it have
+spared me! But God be thanked for this late blessing! Pardon me, I
+have not yet asked your name."
+
+"My name is Crump--Jack Crump."
+
+"Jack?" said the lady, smiling.
+
+"Yes, madam; that is what they call me. It would not seem natural to
+be called by another."
+
+"Very well," said Mrs. Clifton, with a smile which went to Jack's
+heart at once, and made him think her, if anything, more beautiful
+than Ida; "as Ida is your adopted sister, that makes us connected in
+some way, doesn't it? I won't call you Mr. Crump, for that would
+seem too formal. I will call you Jack."
+
+To be called Jack by such a beautiful lady, who every day of her
+life was accustomed to live in a state which he thought could not be
+exceeded, even by royal state, almost upset our hero. Had Mrs.
+Clifton been Queen Victoria herself, he could not have felt a
+profounder respect and veneration for her than he did already.
+
+"Now Jack," said Mrs. Clifton, "we must take measures immediately to
+discover Ida. I want you to tell me about her disappearance from
+your house, and what steps you have taken thus far towards finding
+her out."
+
+Jack began at the beginning, and described the appearance of Mrs.
+Hardwick; how she had been permitted to carry Ida away under false
+representations, and the manner in which he had tracked her to
+Philadelphia. He spoke finally of her arrest, and her obstinate
+refusal to impart any information as to Ida's whereabouts.
+
+Mrs. Clifton listened attentively and anxiously. There were more
+difficulties in the way than she had supposed.
+
+"Do you think of any plan, Jack?" she asked, at length.
+
+"Yes, madam," said our hero. "The man who painted the picture of Ida
+may know where she is to be found."
+
+"You are right," said the lady. "I should have thought of it before.
+I will order the carriage again instantly, and we will at once go
+back to the print-store."
+
+An hour later, Henry Bowen was surprised by the visit of an elegant
+lady to his studio, accompanied by a young man of eighteen.
+
+"I think you are the artist who designed 'The Flower-Girl,'" said
+Mrs. Clifton.
+
+"I am, madam."
+
+"It was taken from life?"
+
+"You are right."
+
+"I am anxious to find out the little girl whose face you copied. Can
+you give me any directions that will enable me to find her out?"
+
+"I will accompany you to the place, if you desire it, madam," said
+the young man. "It is a strange neighborhood to look for so much
+beauty."
+
+"I shall be deeply indebted to you if you will oblige me so far,"
+said the lady. "My carriage is below, and my coachman will obey your
+orders."
+
+Once more they were on the move. A few minutes later, and the
+carriage paused. The driver opened the door. He was evidently quite
+scandalized at the idea of bringing his lady to such a place.
+
+"This can't be the place, madam," he said.
+
+"Yes," said the artist. "Do not get out, madam. I will go in, and
+find out all that is needful."
+
+Two minutes later he returned, looking disappointed.
+
+"We are too late," he said. "An hour since a gentleman called, and
+took away the child."
+
+Mrs. Clifton sank back, in keen disappointment.
+
+"My child, my child!" she murmured. "Shall I ever see thee again?"
+
+Jack, too, felt more disappointed than he was willing to
+acknowledge. He could not conjecture who this gentleman could be who
+had carried away Ida. The affair seemed darker and more complicated
+than ever.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+IDA IS FOUND.
+
+
+
+
+
+IDA was sitting alone in the dreary apartment which she was now
+obliged to call home. Peg had gone out, and not feeling quite
+certain of her prey, had bolted the door on the outside. She had
+left some work for the child,--some handkerchiefs to hem for
+Dick,--with strict orders to keep steadily at work.
+
+While seated at work, she was aroused from thoughts of home by a
+knock at the, door.
+
+"Who's there?" asked Ida.
+
+"A friend," was the reply.
+
+"Mrs. Hardwick--Peg isn't at home," returned Ida. "I don't know when
+she will be back."
+
+"Then I will come in and wait till she comes back," said the voice
+outside.
+
+"I can't open the door," said Ida. "It's fastened on the outside."
+
+"Yes, I see. Then I will take the liberty to draw the bolt."
+
+Mr. John Somerville entered the room, and for the first time in
+eight years his glance fell upon the child whom, for so long a time,
+he had defrauded of a mother's care and tenderness.
+
+Ida returned to the window.
+
+"How beautiful she is!" thought Somerville, with surprise. "She
+inherits all her mother's rare beauty."
+
+On the table beside Ida was a drawing.
+
+"Whose is this?" he inquired.
+
+"Mine," answered Ida.
+
+"So you have learned to draw?"
+
+"A little," answered the child, modestly.
+
+"Who taught you? Not the woman you live with?"
+
+"No;" said Ida.
+
+"You have not always lived with her, I am sure."
+
+Ida admitted that she had not.
+
+"You lived in New York with a family named Crump, did you not?"
+
+"Do you know father and mother?" asked Ida, with sudden hope. "Did
+they send you for me?"
+
+"I will tell you that by and by, my child; but I want to ask you a
+few questions first. Why does this woman Peg lock you in whenever
+she goes away?"
+
+"I suppose," said Ida, "she is afraid I will run away."
+
+"Then she knows you don't want to live with her?"
+
+"Oh, yes, she knows that," said the child, frankly. "I have asked
+her to send me home, but she says she won't for a year."
+
+"And how long have you been with her?"
+
+"About a fortnight."
+
+"What does she make you do?"
+
+"I can't tell what she made me do first."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because she would be very angry."
+
+"Suppose I should tell you that I would deliver you from her. Would
+you be willing to go with me?"
+
+"And you would carry me back to my mother and father?"
+
+"Certainly, I would restore you to your mother," said he, evasively.
+
+"Then I will go with you."
+
+Ida ran quickly to get her bonnet and shawl.
+
+"We had better go at once," said Somerville. "Peg might return, and
+give us trouble."
+
+"O yes, let us go quickly," said Ida, turning pale at the remembered
+threats of Peg.
+
+Neither knew yet that Peg could not return if she would; that, at
+this very moment, she was in legal custody on a charge of a serious
+nature. Still less did Ida know that, in going, she was losing the
+chance of seeing Jack and her mother, of whose existence, even, she
+was not yet aware; and that he, to whose care she consigned herself
+so gladly, had been her worst enemy.
+
+"I will carry you to my room, in the first place," said her
+companion. "You must remain in concealment for a day or two, as Peg
+will, undoubtedly, be on the lookout for you, and we want to avoid
+all trouble."
+
+Ida was delighted with her escape, and, with the hope of soon seeing
+her friends in New York, She put implicit faith in her guide, and
+was willing to submit to any conditions which he might impose.
+
+On emerging into the street, her companion summoned a cab. He had
+reasons for not wishing to encounter any one whom he knew.
+
+At length they reached his lodgings.
+
+They were furnished more richly than any room Ida had yet seen; and
+formed, indeed, a luxurious contrast to the dark and
+scantily-furnished apartment which she had occupied for the last
+fortnight.
+
+"Well, are you glad to get away from Peg?" asked John Somerville,
+giving Ida a seat at the fire.
+
+"Oh, _so_ glad!" said Ida.
+
+"And you wouldn't care about going back?"
+
+The child shuddered.
+
+"I suppose," said she, "that Peg will be very angry. She would beat
+me, if she should get me back again."
+
+"But she sha'n't. I will take good care of that."
+
+Ida looked her gratitude. Her heart went out to those who appeared
+to deal kindly with her, and she felt very grateful to her companion
+for his instrumentality in effecting her deliverance from Peg.
+
+"Now," said Somerville, "perhaps you will be willing to tell me what
+it was you were required to do."
+
+"Yes," said Ida; "but she must never know that I told. It was to
+pass bad money."
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed her companion. "Do you mean bad bills, or spurious
+coin?"
+
+"It was silver dollars."
+
+"Does she do much in that way?"
+
+"A good deal. She goes out every day to buy things with the money."
+
+"I am glad to learn this," said John Somerville, thoughtfully.
+
+"Ida," said he, after a pause, "I am going out for a time. You will
+find books on the table, and can amuse yourself by reading; I won't
+make you sew, as Peg did," he said, smiling.
+
+Ida laughed.
+
+"Oh, yes," said she, "I like reading. I shall amuse myself very
+well."
+
+Mr. Somerville went out, and Ida, as he recommended, read awhile.
+Then, growing tired, she went to the window and looked out. A
+carriage was passing slowly, on account of a press of carriages. Ida
+saw a face that she knew. Forgetting her bonnet in her sudden joy,
+she ran down the stairs, into the street, and up to the carriage
+window.
+
+"O Jack!" she exclaimed; "have you come for me?"
+
+It was Mrs. Clifton's carriage, returning from Peg's lodgings.
+
+"Why, it's Ida!" exclaimed Jack, almost springing through the window
+of the carriage. "Where did you come from, and where have you been
+all the time?"
+
+He opened the door of the carriage, and drew Ida in.
+
+Till then she had not seen the lady who sat at Jack's side.
+
+"My child, my child! Thank God, you are restored to me," exclaimed
+Mrs. Clifton.
+
+She drew the astonished child to her bosom. Ida looked up into her
+face. Was it Nature that prompted her to return the lady's embrace?
+
+"My God, I thank thee!" murmured Mrs. Clifton; "for this, my child,
+was lost and is found."
+
+"Ida," said Jack, "this lady is your mother."
+
+"My mother!" said the child, bewildered. "Have I two mothers?"
+
+"Yes, but this is your real mother. You were brought to our house
+when you were an infant, and we have always taken care of you; but
+this lady is your real mother."
+
+Ida hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry.
+
+"And you are not my brother?"
+
+"You shall still consider him your brother, Ida," said Mrs. Clifton.
+"Heaven forbid that I should wean your heart from the friends who
+have cared so kindly for you! You shall keep all your old friends,
+and love them as dearly as ever. You will only have one friend the
+more."
+
+"Where are we going?" asked Ida, suddenly.
+
+"We are going home."
+
+"What will the gentleman say?"
+
+"What gentleman?"
+
+"The one that took me away from Peg's. Why, there he is now!"
+
+Mrs. Clifton followed the direction of Ida's finger, as she pointed
+to a gentleman passing.
+
+"Is he the one?"
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Ida, shyly.
+
+Mrs. Clifton pressed Ida to her breast. It was the first time she
+had ever been called mamma. It made her realize, more fully, her
+present happiness.
+
+Arrived at the house, Jack's bashfulness returned. He hung back, and
+hesitated about going in.
+
+Mrs. Clifton observed this.
+
+"Jack," said she, "this house is to be your home while you remain in
+Philadelphia. Come in, and Thomas shall go for your baggage."
+
+"Perhaps I had better go with him," said Jack. "Uncle Abel will be
+glad to know that Ida is found."
+
+"Very well; only return soon."
+
+"Well!" thought Jack, as he re-entered the (sic) carraige, and gave
+the direction to the coachman; "won't Uncle Abel be a little
+surprised when he sees me coming home in such style!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+"NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND."
+
+
+
+
+
+MEANWHILE, Peg was passing her time wearily enough in prison. It was
+certainly provoking to be deprived of her freedom just when she was
+likely to make it most profitable. After some reflection, she
+determined to send for Mrs. Clifton, and reveal to her all she knew,
+trusting to her generosity for a recompense.
+
+To one of the officers of the prison she communicated the
+intelligence that she had an important revelation to make to Mrs.
+Clifton, and absolutely refused to make it unless the lady would
+visit her in prison.
+
+Scarcely had Mrs. Clifton returned home, after recovering her child,
+than the bell rang, and a stranger was introduced.
+
+"Is this Mrs. Clifton?" he inquired.
+
+"It is."
+
+"Then I have a message for you."
+
+The lady inclined her head.
+
+"You must know, madam, that I am one of the officers connected with
+the City Prison. A woman was placed in confinement this morning, who
+says she has a most important communication to make to you, but
+declines to make it except to you in person."
+
+"Can you bring her here, sir?"
+
+"That is impossible. We will give you every facility, however, for
+visiting her in prison."
+
+"It must be Peg," whispered Ida; "the woman that carried me off."
+
+Such a request Mrs. Clifton could not refuse. She at once made ready
+to accompany the officer. She resolved to carry Ida with her,
+fearful that, unless she kept her in her immediate presence, she
+might disappear again as before.
+
+As Jack had not yet returned, a hack was summoned, and they
+proceeded at once to the prison. Ida shuddered as she passed beneath
+the gloomy portal which shut out hope and the world from so many.
+
+"This way, madam!"
+
+They followed the officer through a gloomy corridor, until they came
+to the cell in which Peg was confined.
+
+The tenant of the cell looked surprised to find Mrs. Clifton
+accompanied by Ida.
+
+"How do you do, Ida?" she said, smiling grimly; "you see I've moved.
+Just tell your mother she can sit down on the bed. I'm sorry I
+haven't any rocking-chair or sofa to offer you."
+
+"O Peg," said Ida, her tender heart melted by the woman's
+misfortunes; "how sorry I am to find you here!"
+
+"Are you sorry?" asked Peg, looking at her in surprise.
+
+"You haven't much cause to be. I've been your worst enemy, or one of
+the worst."
+
+"I can't help it," said the child, her face beaming with a divine
+compassion; "it must be so sad to be shut up here, and not be able
+to go out into the bright sunshine. I do pity you."
+
+Peg's heart was not wholly hardened. Few are. But it was long since
+it had been touched as it was now by this great pity on the part of
+one she had injured.
+
+"You're a good girl, Ida," she said; "and I'm sorry I've injured
+you. I didn't think I should ever ask forgiveness of anybody; but I
+do ask your forgiveness."
+
+The child rose, and advancing towards Peg, took her large hand in
+(sic) her's and said, "I forgive you, Peg."
+
+"From your heart?"
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"Thank you, child. I feel better now. There have been times when I
+thought I should like to lead a better life."
+
+"It is not too late now, Peg."
+
+Peg shook her head.
+
+"Who will trust me after I have come from here?"
+
+"I will," said Mrs. Clifton, speaking for the first time.
+
+"You will?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And yet you have much to forgive. But it was not my plan to steal
+your daughter from you. I was poor, and money tempted me."
+
+"Who could have had an interest in doing me this cruel wrong?"
+
+"One whom you know well,--Mr. John Somerville."
+
+"Surely, you are wrong!" exclaimed Mrs. Clifton, in unbounded
+astonishment. "It cannot be. What object could he have had?"
+
+"Can you think of none?" queried Peg, looking at her shrewdly.
+
+Mrs. Clifton changed color. "Perhaps so," she said. "Go on."
+
+Peg told the whole story, so circumstantially, that there was no
+room left for doubt.
+
+"I did not believe him capable of such wickedness," she ejaculated.
+"It was a base, unmanly revenge. How could you lend yourself to it?"
+
+"How could I?" repeated Peg. "Madam, you are rich. You have always
+had whatever wealth could procure. How can you understand the
+temptations of the poor? When want and hunger stare us in the face,
+we have not the strength to resist that you have in your luxurious
+homes."
+
+"Pardon me," said Mrs. Clifton, touched by these words, half bitter,
+half pathetic; "let me, at any rate, thank you for the service you
+have done me now. When you are released from your confinement, come
+to me. If you wish to change your mode of life and live honestly
+henceforth, I will give you the chance."
+
+"You will!" said Peg, eagerly.
+
+"I will."
+
+"After all the injury I have done you, you will trust me still?"
+
+"Who am I that I should condemn you? Yes, I will trust you, and
+forgive you."
+
+"I never expected to hear such words," said Peg, her heart softened,
+and her arid eyes moistened by unwonted emotion, "least of all from
+you. I should like to ask one thing."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Will you let her come and see me sometimes?" she pointed to Ida as
+she spoke; "it will remind me that this is not all a dream--these
+words which you have spoken."
+
+"She shall come," said Mrs. Clifton, "and I will come too,
+sometimes."
+
+"Thank you," said Peg.
+
+They left the prison behind them, and returned home.
+
+"Mr. Somerville is in the drawing-room," said the servant. "He
+wishes to see you."
+
+Mrs. Clifton's face flushed.
+
+"I will go down," she said. "Ida, you will remain here."
+
+She descended to the drawing-room, and met the man who had injured
+her. He had come with the resolve to stake his all upon a single
+cast. His fortunes were desperate. Through the mother's love for the
+daughter whom she had mourned so long, whom, as he believed he had
+it in his power to restore to her, he hoped to obtain her consent to
+a marriage, which would retrieve his fortunes, and gratify his
+ambition.
+
+Mrs. Clifton seated herself quietly. She did not, as usual, offer
+him her hand. Full of his own plans, he did not notice this
+omission.
+
+"How long is it since Ida was lost?" inquired Somerville.
+
+Mrs. Clifton started in some surprise. She had not expected him to
+introduce this subject.
+
+"Eight years," she said.
+
+"And you believe she yet lives?"
+
+"Yes, I am certain of it."
+
+John Somerville did not understand her aright. He felt only that a
+mother never gives up hope.
+
+"Yet it is a long time," he said.
+
+"It is--a long time to suffer," she said. "How could any one have
+the heart to work me this great injury? For eight years I have led a
+sad and solitary life,--years that might have been made glad by
+Ida's presence."
+
+There was something in her tone which puzzled John Somerville, but
+he was far enough from suspecting the truth.
+
+"Rose," he said, after a pause. "Do you love your child well enough
+to make a sacrifice for the sake of recovering her?"
+
+"What sacrifice?" she asked, fixing her eyes upon him.
+
+"A sacrifice of your feelings."
+
+"Explain. You talk in enigmas."
+
+"Listen, then. I, too, believe Ida to be living. Withdraw the
+opposition you have twice made to my suit, promise me that you will
+reward my affection by your land if I succeed, and I will devote
+myself to the search for Ida, resting day nor night till I am able
+to place her in your arms. Then, if I succeed, may I claim my
+reward?"
+
+"What reason have you for thinking you should find her?" asked Mrs.
+Clifton, with the same inexplicable manner.
+
+"I think I have got a clew."
+
+"And are you not generous enough to exert yourself without demanding
+of me this sacrifice?"
+
+"No, Rose," he said, "I am not unselfish enough."
+
+"But, consider a moment. Will not even that be poor atonement enough
+for the wrong you have done me,"--she spoke rapidly now,--"for the
+grief and loneliness and sorrow which your wickedness and cruelty
+have wrought?"
+
+"I do not understand you," he said, turning pale.
+
+"It is enough to say that I have seen the woman who is now in
+prison,--your paid agent,--and that I need no assistance to recover
+Ida. She is in my house."
+
+What more could be said?
+
+John Somerville rose, and left the room. His grand scheme had
+failed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+
+
+
+I AM beginning to feel anxious about Jack," said Mrs. Crump. "It's
+almost a week since we heard from him. I'm afraid he's got into some
+trouble."
+
+"Probably he's too busy to write," said the cooper.
+
+"I told you so," said Rachel, in one of her usual fits of
+depression. "I told you Jack wasn't fit to be sent on such an
+errand. If you'd only taken my advice, you wouldn't have had so much
+worry and trouble about him now. Most likely he's got into the House
+of Reformation, or somewhere. I knew a young man once who went away
+from home, and never came back again. Nobody ever knew what became
+of him till his body was found in the river, half-eaten by fishes."
+
+"How can you talk so, Rachel?" said Mrs. Crump, indignantly; "and of
+your own nephew, too!"
+
+"This is a world of trial and disappointment," said Rachel; "and we
+might as well expect the worst, because it's sure to come."
+
+"At that rate there wouldn't be much joy in life," said the cooper.
+"No, Rachel, you are wrong. God didn't send us into the world to be
+melancholy. He wants us to enjoy ourselves. Now I have no idea that
+Jack has jumped into the river. Then again, if he has, he can swim."
+
+"I suppose," said Rachel, "you expect him to come home in a coach
+and four, bringing Ida with him."
+
+"Well," said the cooper, good-humoredly, "I don't know but that is
+as probable as your anticipations."
+
+Rachel shook her head dismally.
+
+"Bless me!" said Mrs. Crump, in a tone of excitement; "there's a
+carriage just stopped at our door, and--yes, it is Jack, and Ida
+too!"
+
+The strange (sic) fulfilment of the cooper's suggestion struck even
+Aunt Rachel. She, too, hastened to the window, and saw a handsome
+carriage drawn, not by four horses, but by two elegant bays,
+standing before the door. Jack had already jumped out, and was now
+assisting Ida to alight. No sooner was Ida on firm ground than she
+ran into the house, and was at once clasped in the arms of her
+adopted mother.
+
+"O mother!" she exclaimed; "how glad I am to see you once more."
+
+"Haven't you a kiss for me too, Ida?" said the cooper, his face
+radiant with joy. "You don't know how much we've missed you."
+
+"And I'm so glad to sec you all, and Aunt Rachel, too."
+
+To her astonishment, Aunt Rachel, for the first time in the child's
+remembrance, kissed her. There was nothing wanting to her welcome
+home.
+
+Scarcely had the spinster done so than her observant eyes detected
+what had escaped the cooper and his wife, in their joy.
+
+"Where did you get this dress, Ida?" she asked.
+
+Then, for the first time, all observed that Ida was more elegantly
+dressed than when she went away. She looked like a young princess.
+
+"That Mrs. Hardwick didn't give you this gown, I'll be bound," said
+she.
+
+"Oh, I've so much to tell you," said Ida, breathlessly. "I've found
+my mother,--my other mother!"
+
+A pang struck to the honest hearts of Timothy Crump and his wife.
+Ida must leave them. After all the happy years during which they had
+watched over and cared for her, she must leave them at length.
+
+Just then, an elegantly-dressed lady appeared at the threshold.
+Smiling, radiant with happiness, Mrs. Clifton seemed, to the
+cooper's family, almost a being from another sphere.
+
+"Mother," said Ida, taking her hand, and leading her to Mrs. Crump,
+"this is my other mother, who has always taken such good care of me
+and loved me so well."
+
+"Mrs. Crump," said Mrs. Clifton, "how can I ever thank you for your
+care of my child?"
+
+My child!
+
+It was hard for Mrs. Crump to hear another speak of Ida in this way.
+
+"I have tried to do my duty by her," she said, simply; "I love her
+so much."
+
+"Yes," said the cooper, clearing his throat, and speaking a little
+huskily, "we all love her as if she was our own. She has been so
+long with us that we have come to think of her as our own, and--and
+it won't be easy at first to give her up."
+
+"My friend," said Mrs. Clifton, "think not that I shall ever ask you
+to make that sacrifice. I shall always think of Ida as only a little
+less yours than mine."
+
+"But you live in Philadelphia. We shall lose sight of her."
+
+"Not unless you refuse to come to Philadelphia, too."
+
+"I am not sure whether I could find work there."
+
+"That shall be my care. I have another inducement. God has bestowed
+upon me a large share of this world's goods. I am thankful for it,
+since it will enable me in some slight way to express my sense of
+your great services to Ida. I own a neat brick house in a quiet
+street, which you will find more comfortable than this. Just before
+I left Philadelphia my lawyer drew up a deed of gift, conveying the
+house to you. It is Ida's gift, not mine. Ida, give this to Mr.
+Crump."
+
+The child took the parchment, and handed it to the cooper, who was
+bewildered by his sudden good fortune.
+
+"This for me?" he said.
+
+"It is the first installment of my debt of gratitude; it shall not
+be the last," said Mrs. Clifton.
+
+"How shall I thank you, madam?" said the cooper. "To a poor man this
+is, indeed, an acceptable gift."
+
+"By accepting it," said Mrs. Clifton. "Let me add, for I know it
+will enhance the value of the gift in your eyes, that it is only
+five minutes' walk from my own house, and Ida will come and see you
+every day."
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Ida; "I couldn't be happy away from father and
+mother and Jack, and Aunt Rachel."
+
+"You must introduce me to your Aunt Rachel," said Mrs. Clifton, with
+a grace all her own.
+
+Ida did so.
+
+"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Rachel," said Mrs.
+Clifton. "I need not say that I shall be glad to see you, as well as
+Mr. and Mrs. Crump, at my house very frequently."
+
+"I'm much obleeged to you," said Aunt Rachel; "but I don't think I
+shall live long to go anywhere. The feelin's I have, sometimes warn
+me that I'm not long for this world."
+
+"You see, Mrs. Clifton," said Jack, his eyes dancing with mischief,
+"we come of a short-lived family. Grandmother died at eighty-two,
+and that wouldn't give Aunt Rachel long to live."
+
+"You impudent boy!" exclaimed Miss Rachel, in great indignation.
+Then relapsing into melancholy, "I'm a poor afflicted creetur, and
+the sooner I leave this scene of trial the better."
+
+"Let us hope," said Mrs. Clifton, politely, "that you will find the
+air of Philadelphia beneficial to your health. Change of air
+sometimes works wonders."
+
+In the course of a few weeks the whole family removed to
+Philadelphia. The house which Mrs. Clifton had given them, (sic)
+excceeded their anticipations. It was so much better and larger than
+their present dwelling, that their furniture would have shown to
+great disadvantage in it. But Mrs. Clifton had foreseen this, and
+they found the house already furnished for their reception. Through
+Mrs. Clifton's influence the cooper was enabled to establish himself
+in business on a larger scale, and employ others, instead of working
+himself, for hire. Ida was such a frequent visitor, that it was hard
+to tell which she considered her home--her mother's elegant
+dwelling, or Mrs. Cooper's comfortable home.
+
+For Jack, a situation was found in a merchant's counting-room, and
+he became a thriving young merchant, being eventually taken into
+partnership. Ida grew lovelier as she grew older, and her rare
+beauty caused her to be sought after. If she does not marry well and
+happily, it will not be for want of an opportunity.
+
+Dear reader, you who deem that all stories should end with a
+marriage, shall not be disappointed.
+
+One day Aunt Rachel was missing from her room. It was remembered
+that she had appeared singularly for some days previous, and the
+knowledge of her constitutional low spirits, led to the apprehension
+that she had made way with herself. The cooper was about to notify
+the police, when the front door opened and Rachel walked in. She was
+accompanied by a short man, stout and freckled.
+
+"Why, Aunt Rachel," exclaimed Mrs. Crump, "where _have_ you been? We
+have been so anxious about you."
+
+A faint flush came to Aunt Rachel's sallow cheek.
+
+"Sister Mary," said she, "you will be surprised, perhaps, but--but
+this is my consort. Mr. Smith, let me introduce you to my sister."
+
+"Then you are married, Rachel," said Mrs. Crump, quite confounded.
+
+"Yes," said Rachel; "I--I don't expect to live long, and it won't
+make much difference."
+
+"I congratulate you, _Mrs. Smith_," said Mary Crump, heartily; "and
+I wish you a long and happy life, I am sure."
+
+It is observed that, since her marriage, Aunt Rachel's fits of
+depression are less numerous than before. She has even been seen to
+smile repeatedly, and has come to bear, with philosophical
+equanimity, her nephew Jack's sly allusions to her elopement.
+
+One word more. At the close of her term of confinement, Peg came to
+Mrs. Clifton, and reminded her of her promise. Dick was dead, and
+she was left alone in the world. Imprisonment had not hardened her
+as it so often does. She had been redeemed by the kindness of those
+she had injured. Mrs. Clifton secured her a position in which her
+energy and administrative ability found fitting exercise, and she
+leads a laborious and useful life, in a community where her
+antecedents are not known.
+
+END.
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
+by Horatio Alger
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+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
+by Horatio Alger
+