Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life
Page 17
JACK set out with that lightness of heart and keen sense of enjoymentthat 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 wasdischarged, with hundreds of others, at the depot in Philadelphia.
Among the admonitions given to Jack on leaving home, one was prominentlyin his mind, to beware of imposition, and to be as economical aspossible.
Accordingly he rejected all invitations to ride, and strode along, withhis carpet-bag in hand, though, sooth to say, he had very little ideawhether 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, howyou'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 yourraining 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 AuntRachel," he added, smiling; "though she ain't so cheerful as she mightbe."
"Poor Rachel!" said Abel, smiling also, "all things look upside downto her. I don't suppose she's wholly to blame for it. Folks differconstitutionally. 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 looksas if she was attending a funeral."
"So she is, my boy," said Abel Crump, gravely, "and a sad funeral itis."
"I don't understand you, uncle."
"The funeral of her affections,--that's what I mean. Perhaps you mayn'tknow that Rachel was, in early life, engaged to be married to a youngman whom she ardently loved. She was a different woman then from whatshe is now. But her lover deserted her just before the wedding was tohave come off, and she's never got over the disappointment. But thatisn't what I was going to talk about. You haven't told me about youradopted sister."
"That's what I've come to Philadelphia about," said Jack, soberly. "Idahas been carried off, and I've been sent in search of her."
"Been carried off!" exclaimed his uncle, in amazement. "I didn't knowsuch things ever happened in this country. What do you mean?"
In answer to this question Jack told the story of Mrs. Hardwick'sarrival with a letter from Ida's mother, conveying the request that thechild might, under the guidance of the messenger, be allowed to pay hera visit. To this, and the subsequent details, Abel Crump listened withearnest attention.
"So you have reason to think the child is in (sic) Phildelphia?" hesaid, musingly.
"Yes," said Jack, "Ida was seen in the cars, coming here, by a boy whoknew 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 ofyour family lately, that I had forgotten it. It is rather a singularcircumstance."
"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 buya small amount of bread. I was at once favorably impressed with herappearance. 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 mein payment a silver dollar. 'I'll keep that for my little girl,' thoughtI at once. Accordingly, when I went home at night, I just took thedollar out the till, and gave it to her. Of course she was delightedwith it, and, like a child, wanted to spend it at once. So her motheragreed to go out with her the next day. Well, they selected somenicknack or other, but when they came to pay for it the dollar proved tobe spurious."
"Spurious!"
"Yes, bad. Got up, no doubt, by a gang of coiners. When they told me ofthis I thought to myself, 'Can it be that this little girl knew what shewas 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 justlike the other. Before letting her know that I had discovered theimposition I asked her one or two questions, with the idea of findingout as much as possible about her. When I told her the coin was a badone, 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 oncondition that she would bring me back a good dollar in place of the badone the next day. I suppose I was a fool for doing so, but she looked sopretty and innocent that I couldn't make up my mind to speak or harshlyto her. But I'm afraid that I was deceived, and that she is an artfulcharacter, 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 verylikely 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 hisuncle's alarm.
"Yes, Ida Hardwick. But that hasn't anything to do with your Ida, hasit?"
"Hasn't it, though?" said Jack. "Why, Mrs. Hardwick was the woman thatcarried her away."
"Mrs. Hardwick--her mother!"
"No, not her mother. She was, or at least she said she was, the womanthat 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 littlegirl 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 abouther waist. She also had a brown scarf about her neck, if I rememberrightly."
"That is exactly the way Ida was dressed when she went away. I am sureit must be she."
"Perhaps," suggested his uncle, "this woman, though calling herselfIda's nurse, was really her mother."
"No, it can't be," said Jack, vehemently. "What, that ugly, disagreeablewoman, Ida's mother! I won't believe it. I should just as soon expectto see strawberries growing on a thorn-bush. There isn't the leastresemblance between them."
"You know I have not seen Mrs. Hardwick, so I cannot judge on thatpoint."
"No great loss," said Jack. "You wouldn't care much about seeing heragain. She is a tall, gaunt, disagreeable looking woman; while Ida isfair, and sweet looking. I didn't fancy this Mrs. Hardwick when I firstset 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 getpossession of Ida; but then, that was what we expected of Aunt Rachel."
"Still, it seems difficult to imagine any satisfactory motive on thepart 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 amdetermined 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 t
here's a will there's a way,' you know."
CHAPTER XVIII. FINESSE.