“Then you are a good girl; and, to reward you, I will tell you in confidence all the strange stories I have discovered today.”
“Oh, do, aunt!” cried Fanny; and now her eyes began to sparkle with curiosity.
Miss Maitland then bid her observe that the bedroom window was not a French casement, but a double-sash window—closed at present because of the rain; but it had been wide open at the top all the time.
“Those two were smoking, and talking secrets; and, child,” said the old lady, very impressively, “if you—want—to—know—what gentlemen really are, you must be out of sight, and listen to them, smoking. When I was a girl, the gentlemen came out in their true colors over their wine. Now they are as close as wax, drinking; and even when they are tipsy they keep their secrets. But once let them get by themselves and smoke, the very air is soon filled with scandalous secrets none of the ladies in the house ever dreamed of. Their real characters, their true histories, and their genuine sentiments, are locked up like that genius in 'The Arabian Nights,' and come out in smoke as he did.” The old lady chuckled at her own wit, and the young one laughed to humor her. “Well, my dear, those two smoked, and revealed themselves—their real selves; and I listened and heard every word on the top of those drawers.”
Fanny looked at the drawers. They were high.
“La, aunt! how ever did you get up there?”
“By a chair.”
“Oh, fancy you perched up there, listening, at your age!”
“You need not keep throwing my age in my teeth. I am not so very old. Only I don't paint and whiten and wear false hair. There are plenty of coquettes about, ever so much older than I am. I have a great mind not to tell you; and then much you will ever know about either of these men!”
“Oh, aunt, don't be cruel! I am dying to hear it.”