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Jack's Ward, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 19. Bad Money |
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_ CHAPTER XIX. BAD MONEY The baker introduced in the foregoing chapter was named Harding. Singularly, Abel Harding was a brother of Timothy Harding, the cooper. In many respects he resembled his brother. He was an excellent man, exemplary in all the relations of life, and had a good heart. He was in very comfortable circumstances, having accumulated a little property by diligent attention to his business. Like his brother, Abel Harding had married, and had one child. She had received the name of Ellen. When the baker closed his shop for the night, he did not forget the new dollar, which he had received, or the disposal he told Ida he would make of it. Ellen ran to meet her father as he entered the house. "What do you think I have brought you, Ellen?" he said, with a smile. "Do tell me quick," said the child, eagerly. "What if I should tell you it was a new dollar?" "Oh, papa, thank you!" and Ellen ran to show it to her mother. "Yes," said the baker, "I received it from a little girl about the size of Ellen, and I suppose it was that that gave me the idea of bringing it home to her." This was all that passed concerning Ida at that time. The thought of her would have passed from the baker's mind, if it had not been recalled by circumstances. Ellen, like most girls of her age, when in possession of money, could not be easy until she had spent it. Her mother advised her to deposit it in some savings bank; but Ellen preferred present gratification. Accordingly, one afternoon, when walking out with her mother, she persuaded her to go into a toy shop, and price a doll which she saw in the window. The price was seventy-five cents. Ellen concluded to buy it, and her mother tendered the dollar in payment. The shopman took it in his hand, glanced at it carelessly at first, then scrutinized it with increased attention. "What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Harding. "It is good, isn't it?" "That is what I am doubtful of," was the reply. "It is new." "And that is against it. If it were old, it would be more likely to be genuine." "But you wouldn't condemn a bill because it is new?" "Certainly not; but the fact is, there have been lately many cases where counterfeit bills have been passed, and I suspect this is one of them. However, I can soon ascertain." "I wish you would," said the baker's wife. "My husband took it at his shop, and will be likely to take more unless he is put on his guard." The shopman sent it to the bank where it was pronounced counterfeit. Mr. Harding was much surprised at his wife's story. "Really!" he said. "I had no suspicion of this. Can it be possible that such a young and beautiful child could be guilty of such an offense?" "Perhaps not," answered his wife. "She may be as innocent in the matter as Ellen or myself." "I hope so," said the baker; "it would be a pity that so young a child should be given to wickedness. However, I shall find out before long." "How?" "She will undoubtedly come again sometime." The baker watched daily for the coming of Ida. He waited some days in vain. It was not Peg's policy to send the child too often to the same place, as that would increase the chances of detection. One day, however, Ida entered the shop as before. "Good-morning," said the baker; "what will you have to-day?" "You may give me a sheet of gingerbread, sir." The baker placed it in her hand. "How much will it be?" "Twelve cents." Ida offered him another new bill. As if to make change, he stepped from behind the counter and placed himself between Ida and the door. "What is your name, my child?" he asked. "Ida, sir." "Ida? But what is your other name?" Ida hesitated a moment, because Peg had forbidden her to use the name of Harding, and had told her, if ever the inquiry were made, she must answer Hardwick. She answered reluctantly: "Ida Hardwick." The baker observed her hesitation, and this increased his suspicion. "Hardwick!" he repeated, musingly, endeavoring to draw from the child as much information as possible 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 the change as soon as you can." "I have no doubt of it," said the baker, his manner suddenly changing, "but you cannot go just yet." "Why not?" asked Ida. "Because you have been trying to deceive me." "I trying to deceive you!" exclaimed Ida. "Really," thought Mr. Harding, "she does it well; but no doubt she is trained to it. It is perfectly shocking, such artful depravity in a child." "Don't you remember buying something here a week ago?" he asked, in as stern a tone as his good nature would allow him to employ. "Yes," answered Ida, promptly; "I bought two rolls, at three cents apiece." "And what did you offer me in payment?" "I handed you a dollar bill." "Like this?" asked the baker, holding up the one she had just offered him. "Yes, sir." "And do you mean to say," demanded the baker, sternly, "that you didn't know it was bad when you offered it to me?" "Bad!" gasped Ida. "Yes, spurious. Not as good as blank paper." "Indeed, sir, I didn't know anything about it," said Ida, earnestly; "I hope you'll believe me when I say that I thought it was good." "I don't know what to think," said the baker, perplexed. "Who gave you the money?" "The woman I board with." "Of course I can't give you the gingerbread. Some men, in my place, would deliver you up to the police. But I will let you go, if you will make me one promise." "Oh, I will promise anything, sir," said Ida. "You have given me a bad dollar. Will you promise to bring me a good one to-morrow?" Ida made the required promise, and was allowed to go. _ |
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