"He advised me to go home and forget him, adding insult to injury by concluding with the cruel words; 'Such a little incident in the life of a working-girl will not amount to anything.'"
"The scoundrel of a man!" cried Miss Fernly, in intense indignation. "I wonder that a righteous God lets such men live!"
She found herself intensely interested in the story of this beautiful young girl, whose innocent face she could not help but trust from the first moment that she beheld it.
At first it had occurred to Miss Fernly to ask the name of the rascal, her husband; then she told herself that in all probability it was a false one, and that he could not be traced by it.
"I will think the matter over," said Miss Fernly, "and conclude what action you should take. For your child's sake, you can not allow this man to go free. You would be committing a crime against society at large."
Just at that moment the doctor entered the room. He motioned Miss Fernly to one side. By some strange intuition, Ida May guessed the import of his visit.
"My—my little one!" she cried, inquiringly—"tell me of her! How is she?"
For a moment the doctor was silent.
"I may as well tell the truth now as tell it at some future time," he thought, pityingly.
"Tell me what news do you bring of my little child?" cried Ida.