Well, one thing had failed me; I must try another. At the next evening assembly I watched my chance, and caught Charlotte in a corner. I asked how Hatty was.
“Hatty?” said Charlotte, looking surprised. “She is well enough, for aught I know.”
“I thought she had a bad catarrh?” said I.
“Didn’t know she had one. She is going to my Lady Milworth’s assembly with Mrs Crossland.”
I felt more sure of ill-play than ever, but to Charlotte I said no more. The next person whom I pinned to the wall was Amelia. With her I felt more need of caution in one sense, for I did not know how far she might be in the plot, whatever it was. That no living mortal with any shadow of brains would have trusted Charlotte with a secret, I felt as sure as I did that my ribbons were white, and not red.
“Emily,” I said, “why did not Hatty come with you to-night?”
“I did not ask,” was Amelia’s languid answer. I do think she gets more and more limp and unstarched as time goes on.
“Is she better?”
“What is the matter with her?” Amelia’s eyes betrayed no artifice.
“A catarrh, I understand.”