“Yes, ma'am,” said the stranger. “I hope the dear child is well.”
“Perfectly well. How much her mother must have suffered from the separation!”
“Indeed, you may say so, ma'am. It came near to break her heart.”
“So it must,” said sympathizing Mrs. Crump. “There is one thing I would like to ask,” she continued, hesitating and reddening. “Don't answer it unless you please. Was—is Ida the child of shame?”
“She is not,” answered the nurse.
Mrs. Crump looked relieved. It removed a thought from her mind which would now and then intrude, though it had never, for an instant, lessened her affection for the child.
At this point in the conversation, the cooper entered the house. He had just come home on an errand.
“It is my husband,” said Mrs. Crump, turning to her visitor, by way of explanation. “Timothy, will you come in a moment?”
Mr. Crump regarded his wife's visitor with some surprise. His wife hastened to introduce her as Mrs. Hardwick, Ida's nurse, and handed to the astonished cooper the letter which the latter had brought with her.
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. The nurse regarded him with a slight uneasiness.