“Yes,” said the woman, “she makes more fuss than I thought she would.”
“How did you manage to come it over her family?” asked Dick.
His wife, gave substantially, the same account with which the reader is already familiar.
“Pretty well done, old woman!” exclaimed Dick, approvingly. “I always said you was a deep 'un. I always say if Peg can't find out a way to do a thing it can't be done, no how.”
“How about the counterfeit coin?” asked his wife, abruptly.
“They're to supply us with all we can get off, and we are to have one half of all we succeed in passing.”
“That is good,” said the woman, thoughtfully. “When this girl Ida gets a little tamed down, we'll give her some business to do.”
“Won't she betray us if she gets caught?”
“We'll manage that, or at least I will. I'll work on her fears so that she won't any more dare to say a word about us than to cut her own head off.”
Ida sank down on the floor of the closet into which she had been thrust. Utter darkness was around her, and a darkness as black seemed to hang over all her prospects of future happiness. She had been snatched in a moment from parents, or those whom she regarded as such, and from a comfortable and happy though humble home, to this dismal place. In place of the kindness and indulgence to which she had been accustomed, she was now treated with harshness and cruelty. What wonder that her heart desponded, and her tears of childish sorrow flowed freely?