my name isn't Mrs. Hardwick, except in New York."

"What is it, then?" asked Ida.

"It's just Peg, no more and no less. You may call me Aunt Peg."

"I would rather call you Mrs. Hardwick."

"Then you'll have a good many years to call me so. You'd better do as I
tell you if you want any favors. Now what do you say?"

"Yes, Aunt Peg," said Ida, with a strong effort to conceal her
repugnance.

"That's well. Now the first thing to do, is to stay here for the
present."

"Yes--aunt."

"The second is, you're not to tell anybody that you came from New York.
That is very important. You understand that, do you?"

The child replied in the affirmative.

"The next is, that you're to pay for your board, by doing whatever I
tell you."

"If it isn't wicked."

"Do you suppose I would ask you to do anything wicked?"

"You said you wasn't good," mildly suggested Ida.

"I'm good enough to take care of you. Well, what do you say to that?
Answer me."

"Yes."

"There's another thing. You ain't to try to run away."

Ida hung down her head.

"Ha!" said Peg. "So you've been thinking of it, have you?"

"Yes," said Ida, boldly, after a moment's hesitation; "I did think I
should if I got a good chance."

"Humph!" said the woman; "I see we must understand one another. Unless
you promise this, back you go into the dark closet, and I shall keep you
there all the time."

Ida shuddered at this fearful threat, terrible to a child of nine.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," said the child, faintly.

"For fear you might be tempted to break your promise, I have something
to show you."

She went to the cupboard, and took down a large pistol.

"There," she said, "do you see that?"

"Yes, Aunt Peg."

"What is it?"

"It is a pistol, I believe."

"Do you know what it is for?"

"To shoot people with," said Ida, fixing her eyes on the weapon, as if
impelled by a species of fascination.

"Yes," said the woman; "I see you understand. Well, now, do you know
what I would do if you should tell anybody where you came from, or
attempt to run away? Can you guess now?"

"Would you shoot me?" asked the child, struck with terror.

"Yes, I would," said Peg, with fierce emphasis. "That's just what I'd
do. And what's more," she added, "even if you got away, and got back to
your family in New York. I would follow you and shoot you dead in the
street."

"You wouldn't be so wicked!" exclaimed Ida, appalled.

"Wouldn't I, though?" repeat