"Oh! dear me, Miss Conway, how you can say so," she simpered. "It is only your fun. I thank goodness, I keep myself to myself."
"Very good," said Harriet, "I don't care how many hearts you break, only don't lose your own."
Charlotte thought this a famous joke—she tossed her head, laughed and disappeared.
But a few days after, while she was dressing her young mistress; after having committed a series of blunders, which were enough to try the patience of anybody, she stood quite still, and began to cry.
Harriet was very good-natured to her servants; she threw herself into a chair, stifled a strong inclination to laugh, and begged to know what was the matter.
"If you would please to speak for me, Miss Conway," sobbed the agitated Charlotte.
"Speak for you? Do you mean that you wish me to give you a character? Certainly, when you leave, if you mean to leave me. I did not know you wished to go away."
Charlotte shook her head.
"What can be the matter then, Charlotte; is my Aunt Singleton displeased with you?"
Another shake, and a burst of sobbing.