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.
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