Poor Ruby for the moment was struck dumb with mortification. Mrs. Pipkin had given her credit for more outrageous perseverance than she possessed, and had feared that she would rattle at the front door, or attempt to climb over the area gate. She was a little afraid of Ruby, not feeling herself justified in holding absolute dominion over her as over a servant. And though she was now determined in her conduct,—being fully resolved to surrender neither of the keys which she held in her pocket,—still she feared that she might so far collapse as to fall away into tears, should Ruby be violent. But Ruby was crushed. Her lover would be there to meet her, and the appointment would be broken by her! "Aunt Pipkin," she said, "let me go just this once."
"No, Ruby;—it ain't proper."
"You don't know what you're a' doing of, aunt; you don't. You'll ruin me,—you will. Dear Aunt Pipkin, do, do! I'll never ask again, if you don't like."
Mrs. Pipkin had not expected this, and was almost willing to yield. But Mr. Carbury had spoken so very plainly! "It ain't the thing, Ruby; and I won't do it."
"And I'm to be—a prisoner! What have I done to be—a prisoner? I don't believe as you've any right to lock me up."
"I've a right to lock my own doors."
"Then I shall go away to-morrow."
"I can't help that, my dear. The door will be open to-morrow, if you choose to go out."
"Then why not open it to-night? Where's the difference?" But Mrs. Pipkin was stern, and Ruby, in a flood of tears, took herself up to her garret.
Mrs. Pipkin knocked at Mrs. Hurtle's door again. "She's gone to bed," she said.