"It's a lie," said Jack. "She isn't your daughter."
"Young man," said Peg, with wonderful self-command, "you are exciting yourself to no purpose. You asked me if I pretended to be her mother. I do pretend, but I admit frankly that it is all pretense."
"I don't understand what you mean," said Jack.
"Then I will explain to you, though you have treated me so impolitely that I might well refuse. As I informed your father and mother in New York, there are circumstances which stand in the way of Ida's real mother recognizing her as her own child. Still, as she desires her company, in order to avert suspicion and prevent embarrassing questions being asked while she remains in Philadelphia, she is to pass as my daughter."
This explanation was tolerably plausible, and Jack was unable to gainsay it.
"Can I see Ida?" he asked.
To his great joy, Peg replied: "I don't think there can be any objection. I am going to the house now. Will you come with me now, or appoint some other time."
"Now, by all means," said Jack, eagerly. "Nothing shall stand in the way of my seeing Ida."
A grim smile passed over Peg's face.
"Follow me, then," she said. "I have no doubt Ida will be delighted to see you."