At this point in the conversation, the cooper entered the house. He had come home on an errand.
"It is my husband," said Mrs. Harding, turning to her visitor, by way of explanation. "Timothy, will you come here a moment?"
The cooper regarded the stranger with some surprise. His wife hastened to introduce her as Mrs. Hardwick, Ida's old nurse, and placed in her husband's hands the letter which we have already read.
He was not a rapid reader, and it took him some time to get through the letter. He laid it down on his knee, and looked thoughtful.
"This is indeed unexpected," he said, at last. "It is a new development in Ida's history. May I ask, Mrs. Hardwick, if you have any further proof? I want to be careful about a child that I love as my own. Can you furnish any other proof that you are what you represent?"
"I judged that the letter would be sufficient. Doesn't it speak of me as the nurse?"
"True; but how can we be sure that the writer is Ida's mother?"
"The tone of the letter, sir. Would anybody else write like that?"
"Then you have read the letter?" asked the cooper, quickly.
"It was read to me before I set out."