"
"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.
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