"Certainly, safe as in your mother's house."

"Oh, mother, mother; thank God, you are dead!"

"Well, I AM sorry for you," said the sergeant kindly. "'Taint often we have so
sad a case as yours. If you say so, I'll send for Tom Watterly, and he and
his wife will take charge of you. After a few days, your mind will get
quieter and clearer, and then you'll prosecute the man who wronged you."

"I'll go to the poorhouse until I can do better," she replied wearily. "Now,
if you please, I'll return to my cell where I can be alone."

"Oh, we can give you a better room than that," said the sergeant. "Show her
into the waiting room, Tim. If you prosecute, we can help you with our
testimony. Goodbye, and may you have better days!"

Watterly was telegraphed to come down with a conveyance for the almshouse was
in a suburb. In due time he appeared, and was briefly told Alida's story. He
swore a little at the "mean cuss," the author of all the trouble, and then
took the stricken woman to what all his acquaintances facetiously termed his
"hotel."


Chapter XI. Baffled

In the general consciousness Nature is regarded as feminine, and even those
who love her most will have to adopt Mrs. Mumpson's oft-expressed opinion of
the sex and admit that she is sometimes a "peculiar female." During the month
of March, in which our story opens, there was scarcely any limit to her