“But may I not go on Monday?” said Kate, her eyes opening wide with consternation.
“No, certainly not. You have not deserved that I should trust you; I do not know whom you might meet there: and I cannot have you going about with any chance person.”
“O Aunt Barbara! Aunt Barbara! I have promised!”
“Your promise can be of no effect without my consent.”
“But they will expect me. They will be so disappointed!”
“I cannot help that. They ought to have applied to me for my consent.”
“Perhaps,” said Kate hopefully, “Mrs. Wardour will write to-day. If she does, will you let me go?”
“No, Katharine. While you are under my charge, I am accountable for you, and I will not send you into society I know nothing about. Let me hear no more of this, but write a note excusing yourself, and we will let the coachman take it to the post.”
Kate was thoroughly enraged, and forgot even her fears. “I sha’n’t excuse myself,” she said; “I shall say you will not let me go.”
“You will write a proper and gentlewoman-like note,” said Lady Barbara quietly, “so as not to give needless offence.”