She answered, reluctantly, “My name is Ida Hardwick.”
The baker observed the hesitation, and this increased his suspicions.
“Hardwick!” he repeated, musingly, endeavoring to draw from the child as much information as he could before allowing her to perceive that he suspected her. “And where do you live?”
Ida was a child of spirit, and did not understand why she should be questioned so closely. She said, with some impatience, “I am in a hurry, sir, and would like to have you hand me the change as soon as you can.”
“I have no doubt of it,” said the baker, his manner changing; “but you cannot go just yet.”
“And why not?” asked Ida, her eyes flashing.
“Because you have been trying to deceive me.”
“I trying to deceive you!” exclaimed the child, in astonishment.
“Really,” thought Mr. Crump, “she does it well, but no doubt they train her to it. It is perfectly shocking, such depravity in a child.”
“Don't you remember buying something here a week ago?” he said, in as stern a tone as his good nature would allow him to employ.