"Oh, if you will only let me go," pleaded Ida, gathering hope from this remark, "I'll do anything you say."
"Do you mean this, or do you only say it for the sake of getting away?"
"I mean just what I say. Dear, good Mrs. Hardwick, tell me what to do, and I will obey you cheerfully."
"Very well," said Peg, "only you needn't try to come it over me by calling me dear, good Mrs. Hardwick. In the first place, you don't care a cent about me; in the second place, I am not good; and finally, my name isn't Mrs. Hardwick, except in New York."
"What is it, then?" asked Ida.
"It's just Peg, no more and no less. You may call me Aunt Peg."
"I would rather call you Mrs. Hardwick."
"Then you'll have a good many years to call me so. You'd better do as I tell you, if you want any favors. Now what do you say?"
"Yes, Aunt Peg," said Ida, with a strong effort to conceal her repugnance.
"That's well. Now you're not to tell anybody that you came from New York. That is very important; and you're to pay your board by doing whatever I tell you."