“I can’t say I do,” he replied, carelessly.  “Perhaps you used to wash for me once.”

“I am not in the habit of acting as laundress,” said the woman, proudly.  It is worth noticing that she was not above passing spurious coin, and doing other things which are stamped as disreputable by the laws of the land, but her pride revolted at the imputation that she was a washer-woman.

“In that case,” said Somerville, carelessly, “you will have to tell me who you are, for it is out of my power to conjecture.”

“Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection,” said Peg, composedly.

“Ida!” repeated John Somerville, changing color, and gazing now with attention at the woman’s features.

“Yes.”

“I have known several persons of that name,” he said, evasively.  “Of course, I can’t tell which of them you refer to.”

“The Ida I mean was and is a child,” said Peg.  “But, Mr. Somerville, there’s no use in beating about the bush, when I can come straight to the point.  It is now about eight years since my husband and myself were employed in carrying off a child—­a female child of about a year old—­named Ida.  We placed it, according to your directions, on the door-step of a poor family in New York, and they have since cared for it as their own.  I suppose you have not forgotten that.”

John Somerville deliberated.  Should he deny it or not?  He decided to put a bold face on the matter.

“I remember it,” said he, “and now recall your features.  How have you fared since the time I employed you?  Have you found your business profitable?”

“Far from it,” answered Peg.  “We are not yet able to retire on a competence.”

“One of your youthful appearance,” said Solmerville, banteringly, “ought not to think of retiring under ten years.”

Peg smiled.  She knew how to appreciate this speech.

“I don’t care for compliments,” said she, “even when they are sincere.  As for my youthful appearance, I am old enough to have reached the age of discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into my second childhood.”

“Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to whatever business has brought you here?”

“I want a thousand dollars.”

“A thousand dollars!” repeated John Somerville.  “Very likely, I should like that amount myself.  You have not come here to tell me that?”

“I have come here to ask that amount of you.”

“Suppose I should say that your husband is the proper person for you to apply to in such a case.”

“I think I am more likely to get it out of you,” answered Peg, coolly.  “My husband couldn’t supply me with a thousand cents, even if he were willing, which is not likely.”

“Much as I am flattered by your application,” said Somerville, “since it would seem to place me next in your estimation to your husband, I cannot help suggesting that it is not usual to bestow such a sum on a stranger, or even a friend, without an equivalent rendered.”