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.
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