Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life

“I wonder she didn’t think of it before,” said Aunt Rachel, sharply. “She’s good at waiting. She’s waited eight years.”

“There are circumstances that cannot be explained,” commenced the nurse.

“No, I dare say not,” said Rachel, dryly. “So you were her nurse?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hardwick, who evidently did not relish this cross-examination.

“Have you lived with the mother ever since?”

“No,—yes,” stammered the nurse. “Some of the time,” she added, recovering herself.

“Umph!” grunted Rachel, darting a sharp glance at her.

“Have you a husband living?” inquired Rachel, after a pause.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Hardwick. “Have you?”

“I!” repeated Aunt Rachel, scornfully. “No, neither living nor dead. I’m thankful to say I never married. I’ve had trials enough without that. Does Ida’s mother live in the city?”

“I can’t tell you,” said the nurse.

“Humph, I don’t like mystery.”

“It isn’t my mystery,” said the nurse. “If you have any objection to make against it, you must make it to Ida’s mother.”

The two were not likely to get along very amicably. Neither was gifted with the best of tempers, and perhaps it was as well that there should have been an interruption as there was.

CHAPTER IX. A JOURNEY

“OH, mother,” exclaimed Ida, bounding into the room, fresh from school.

She stopped short, in some confusion, on seeing a stranger.

“Is this my own dear child, over whose infancy I watched so tenderly?” exclaimed the nurse, rising, her harsh features wreathed into a smile.

“It is Ida,” said Mrs. Crump.

Ida looked from one to the other in silent bewilderment.

“Ida,” said Mrs. Crump, in a little embarrassment, “this is Mrs. Hardwick, who took care of you when you were an infant.”

“But I thought you took care of me, mother,” said Ida, in surprise.

“Very true,” said Mrs. Crump, evasively, “but I was not able to have the care of you all the time. Didn’t I ever mention Mrs. Hardwick to you?”

“No, mother.”

“Although it is so long since I have seen her, I should have known her anywhere,” said the nurse, applying a handkerchief to her eyes. “So pretty as she’s grown up, too!”

Mrs. Crump, who, as has been said, was devotedly attached to Ida, glanced with pride at the beautiful child, who blushed at the compliment.

“Ida,” said Mrs. Hardwick, “won’t you come and kiss your old nurse?”

Ida looked at the hard face, which now wore a smile intended to express affection. Without knowing why, she felt an instinctive repugnance to her, notwithstanding her words of endearment.

She advanced timidly, with a reluctance which she was not wholly able to conceal, and passively submitted to a caress from the nurse.

There was a look in the eyes of the nurse, carefully guarded, yet not wholly concealed, which showed that she was quite aware of Ida’s feeling towards her, and resented it. But whether or not she was playing a part, she did not betray this feeling openly, but pressed the unwilling child more closely to her bosom.

Ida breathed a sigh of relief when she was released, and walked quietly away, wondering what it was that made her dislike the woman so much.

“Is my nurse a good woman?” she asked, thoughtfully, when alone with Mrs. Crump, who was setting the table for dinner.

“A good woman! What makes you ask that?” queried her adopted mother, in surprise.

“I don’t know,” said Ida.

“I don’t know anything to indicate that she is otherwise,” said Mrs. Crump. “And, by the way, Ida, she is going to take you on a little excursion, to-morrow.”

“She going to take me?” exclaimed Ida. “Why, where are we going?”

“On a little pleasure trip, and perhaps she may introduce you to a pleasant lady, who has already become interested in you, from what she has told her.”

“What could she say of me?” inquired Ida, “she has not seen me since I was a baby.”

“Why,” said the cooper’s wife a little puzzled, “she appears to have thought of you ever since, with a good deal of affection.”

“Is it wicked,” asked Ida, after a pause, “not to like those that like us?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Because, somehow or other, I don’t like this Mrs. Hardwick at all, for all she was my old nurse, and I don’t believe ever shall.”

“Oh yes, you will,” said Mrs. Crump, “when you find she is exerting herself to give you pleasure.”

“Am I going to-morrow morning with Mrs. Hardwick?”

“Yes. She wanted you to go to-day, but your clothes were not in order.”

“We shall come back at night, sha’n’t we?”

“I presume so.”

“I hope we shall,” said Ida, decidedly, “and that she won’t want me to go with her again.”

“Perhaps you will think differently when it is over, and you find you have enjoyed yourself better than you anticipated.”

Mrs. Crump exerted herself to fit Ida up as neatly as possible, and when at length she was got ready, she thought to herself, with sudden fear, “Perhaps her mother won’t be willing to part with her again.”