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 boat, partly by cars, he traveled, till in a few hours he was
discharged, with hundreds of others, at the depot in Philadelphia.
He rejected all invitations to ride, and strode on, carpetbag 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 last, and walking in, announced
himself to the worthy baker as his nephew Jack.
"What? Are you Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Abel Harding, 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," answered 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 your
adopted sister?"
"Father and mother are pretty well," answered Jack; "and so is Aunt
Rachel," he continued, smiling, "though she ain't so cheerful as she
might be."
"Poor Rachel!" said Abel, smiling also. "Everything goes contrary with
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, 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 the very thing I've come to Philadelphia about," said Jack,
soberly. "Ida has been carried off, and I've come in search of her."
"Been carried off? I didn't know such things ever happened in this
country. What do you mean?"
Jack told the story of Mrs. Hardwick's arrival with a letter from Ida's
mother, conveying the request that her child might, under the guidance
of the messenger, be allowed to pay her a visit. To this and the
subsequent details Abel Harding listened with earnest attention.
"So you have reason to think the child is in Philadelphia?" 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 the baker. "Was that her name?"
"Yes; you knew her name, didn't you?"
"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 a singular circumstance?"
"I will tell you, Jack. 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 honest face. Having made the purchase she
handed me in payment a new dollar bill. '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 of, 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
knick-knack or other, but when they came to pay for it the dollar proved
counterfeit."
"Counterfeit?"
"Yes; bad. Issued by a gang of counterfeiters. When they told me of
this, I said to myself, 'Can it be that this little girl knew what she
was about when she offered me that?' I couldn't think it possible, but
decided to wait till she came again."
"Did she come again?"
"Yes; only day before yesterday. As I expected, she offered me in
payment 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 bill 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 act harshly to her. But I am afraid that I was
deceived, and that she was an artful character after all."
"Then she didn't come back with the good money?"
"No; I haven't seen her since."
"What name did she give you?"
"Haven't I told you? It was the name that made me think of telling you.
She called herself Ida Hardwick."
"Ida Hardwick?" repeated Jack.
"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 who
carried her away."
"Mrs. Hardwick--her mother?"
"No; not her mother. She said she was the woman who took care of Ida
before she was brought to us."
"Then you think this Ida Hardwick may be your missing sister?"
"That's what I don't know yet," said Jack. "If you would only describe
her, Uncle Abel, I could tell better."
"Well," said the baker, thoughtfully, "I should say this little girl was
seven or eight years old."
"Yes," said Jack, nodding; "what color were her eyes?"
"Blue."
"So are Ida's."
"A small mouth, with a very sweet expression, yet with something firm
and decided about it."
"Yes."
"And I believe her dress was a light one, with a blue ribbon round the
waist."
"Did she wear anything around her neck?"
"A brown scarf, if I remember rightly."
"That is the way Ida was dressed when she went away with Mrs. Hardwick.
I am sure it must be she. But how strange that she should come into your
shop!"
"Perhaps," suggested his uncle, "this woman, representing herself as
Ida's nurse, was 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."
"You know I have not seen Mrs. Hardwick."
"No great loss," said Jack. "You wouldn't care much about seeing her
again. She is a tall, gaunt, disagreeable woman; while Ida is fair and
sweet-looking. Ida's mother, whoever she is, I am sure, is a lady in
appearance and manners, and Mrs. Hardwick is neither. Aunt Rachel was
right for once."
"What did Rachel say?"
"She said the nurse was an impostor, and declared it was only a plot to
get possession of Ida; but then, that was to be expected of Aunt
Rachel."
"Still it seems difficult to imagine any satisfactory motive on the part
of the woman, supposing her not to be 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.'"
"I wish you success, Jack; but if the people who have got Ida are
counterfeiters, they are desperate characters, and you must proceed
cautiously."
"I ain't afraid of them. I'm on the warpath now, Uncle Abel, and they'd
better look out for me."