"Hasn't it, though?" said Jack. "Why, Mrs. Hardwick was the woman who carried her away."

"Mrs. Hardwick--her mother?"

"No; not her mother. She said she was the woman who took care of Ida before she was brought to us."

"Then you think this Ida Hardwick may be your missing sister?"

"That's what I don't know yet," said Jack. "If you would only describe her, Uncle Abel, I could tell better."

"Well," said the baker, thoughtfully, "I should say this little girl was seven or eight years old."

"Yes," said Jack, nodding; "what color were her eyes?"

"Blue."

"So are Ida's."

"A small mouth, with a very sweet expression, yet with something firm and decided about it."

"Yes."

"And I believe her dress was a light one, with a blue ribbon round the waist."

"Did she wear anything around her neck?"

"A brown scarf, if I remember rightly."

"That is the way Ida was dressed when she went away with Mrs. Hardwick.

I am sure it must be she. But how strange that she should come into your shop!"

"Perhaps," suggested his uncle, "this woman, representing herself as Ida's nurse, was her mother."

"No; it can't be," said Jack, vehemently. "What, that ugly, disagreeable woman, Ida's mother? I won't believe it. I should just as soon expect to see strawberries growing on a thorn bush."

"You know I have not seen Mrs. Hardwick."

"No great loss," said Jack. "You wouldn't care much about seeing her again. She is a tall, gaunt, disagreeable woman; while Ida is fair and sweet-looking. Ida's mother, whoever she is, I am sure, is a lady in appearance and manners, and Mrs. Hardwick is neither. Aunt Rachel was right for once."

"What did Rachel say?"

"She said the nurse was an impostor, and declared it was only a plot to get possession of Ida; but then, that was to be expected of Aunt Rachel."

"Still it seems difficult to imagine any satisfactory motive on the part of the woman, supposing her not to be Ida's mother."

"Mother or not," returned Jack, "she's got possession of Ida; and, from all that you say, she is not the best person to bring her up. I am determined to rescue Ida from this she-dragon. Will you help me, uncle?"

"You may count upon me, Jack, for all I can do."

"Then," said Jack, with energy, "we shall succeed. I feel sure of it.

'Where there's a will there's a way.'"

"I wish you success, Jack; but if the people who have got Ida are counterfeiters, they are desperate characters, and you must proceed cautiously."

"I ain't afraid of them. I'm on the warpath now, Uncle Abel, and they'd better look out for me."

CHAPTER XXIV

JACK'S DISCOVERY

The first thing to be done by Jack was, of course, in some way to obtain a clew to the whereabouts of Peg, or Mrs. Hardwick, to use the name by which he knew her. No mode of proceeding likely to secure this result occurred to him, beyond the very obvious one of keeping in the street as much as possible, in the hope that chance might bring him face to face with the object of his pursuit.

Following out this plan, Jack became a daily promenader in Chestnut, Walnut and other leading thoroughfares. Jack became himself an object of attention, on account of what appeared to be his singular behavior. It was observed that he had no glances to spare for young ladies, but persistently stared at the faces of all middle-aged women--a circ.u.mstance naturally calculated to attract remark in the case of a well-made lad like Jack.

"I am afraid," said the baker, "it will be as hard as looking for a needle in a haystack, to find the one you seek among so many faces."

"There's nothing like trying," said Jack, courageously. "I'm not going to give up yet a while. I'd know Ida or Mrs. Hardwick anywhere."

"You ought to write home, Jack. They will be getting anxious about you."

"I'm going to write this morning--I put it off, because I hoped to have some news to write."

He sat down and wrote the following note:

"DEAR PARENTS: I arrived in Philadelphia right side up with care, and am stopping at Uncle Abel's. He received me very kindly. I have got track of Ida, though I have not found her yet. I have learned as much as this: that this Mrs. Hardwick--who is a double-distilled she-rascal--probably has Ida in her clutches, and has sent her on two occasions to my uncle's. I am spending most of my time in the streets, keeping a good lookout for her. If I do meet her, see if I don't get Ida away from her. But it may take some time. Don't get discouraged, therefore, but wait patiently. Whenever anything new turns up you will receive a line from your dutiful son,

"JACK."

Jack had been in the city eight days when, as he was sauntering along the street, he suddenly perceived in front of him, a shawl which struck him as wonderfully like the one worn by Mrs. Hardwick. Not only that, but the form of the wearer corresponded to his recollections of the nurse. He bounded forward, and rapidly pa.s.sing the suspected person, turned suddenly and confronted the woman of whom he had been in search.

The recognition was mutual. Peg was taken aback by this unexpected encounter.

Her first impulse was to make off, but Jack's resolute expression warned her that he was not to be trifled with.

"Mrs. Hardwick?" exclaimed Jack.

"You are right," said she, rapidly recovering her composure, "and you, if I am not mistaken, are John Harding, the son of my worthy friends in New York."

"Well," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jack, internally, "she's a cool un, and no mistake."

"My name is Jack," he said, aloud.

"Did you leave all well at home?" asked Peg.