He took a few steps hither, then back; began to wend thither, and again turned.

When he at length decided, his road brought him to Milton Street, and up to the door on which stood the name of Mrs.Ledward.
He knocked loudly, and the landlady herself opened.
"A Mrs.Starr lived here, I believe ?" he asked.
"She does live here, sir, but she's in the orspital at present, I'm sorry to say." "Is her child at home ?" "She is, sir." "Let me see her, will you?
In some room, if you please." Mrs.Ledward's squinting eyes took shrewd stock of this gentleman, and, with much politeness, she showed him into her own parlour.

Then she summoned Ida from upstairs, and, the door being closed upon the two, she held her ear as closely as possible to the keyhole.
Ida recognised her visitor with a start, and drew back a little.

There were both fear and dislike in her face, fear perhaps predominating.
"You remember coming to see me," said Mr.Woodstock, looking down upon the child, and a trifle askance.
"Yes, sir," was Ida's reply.
"I have just been at the hospital.

Your mother is dead." His voice gave way a little between the first and the last letter of the last word.