"Because you asked me if it was a lady, and this isn't—leastways she don't look like one."
"You can send her up, whoever she is," said Somerville.
A moment afterward Peg entered his presence.
John Somerville looked at her without much interest, supposing that she might be a seamstress, or laundress, or some applicant for charity. So many years had passed since he had met with this woman that she had passed out of his remembrance.
"Do you wish to see me about anything?" he asked. "You must be quick, for I am just going out."
"You don't seem to recognize me, Mr. Somerville."
"I can't say I do," he replied, carelessly. "Perhaps you used to wash for me once."
"I am not in the habit of acting as laundress," said the woman, proudly.
"In that case," said Somerville, languidly, "you will have to tell me who you are, for it is quite out of my power to remember all the people I meet."
"Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection; or have you forgotten that name, too?"