I bowed my head. I felt inclined to burst out crying if I spoke.
“But who told you? and how come you to be so sure it is true?”
“I was the girl who carried the basket into the prison.” I just managed to say so much without breaking down, though that tiresome lump in my throat kept teasing me.
“You!” cried Hatty, in more tones than the word has letters. “Cary, you must be dreaming! When could you have done it?”
“In the evening, on one of Grandmamma’s Tuesdays, and I was back before any one missed me, except you.”
“Who went with you?—who was in the plot? Do tell us, Cary!”
“Yes, I suppose you may know now,” I said, for I could now speak more calmly. “Ephraim took me to the place where I put on the disguise, and forward to the prison. Then Colonel Keith and I carried in the basket, and Angus brought it out. Ephraim came to us after we left the prison, and brought me back here.”
“Ephraim Hebblethwaite helped you to do that?”
I did not understand Hatty’s tone. She was astonished, undoubtedly so, but she was something else too, and what that was I could not tell.
My Aunt Kezia listened silently.