"Ah! Anne, is that you? sit down; I have just returned. Do you know, the mother of that baby refused to give him up. She says it is one of our Vincent's children. She is a very pretty young woman, Anne—not a high-bred beauty, of course; that you never see, except in aristocratic circles, still, she is quite pretty."
"Very," replied Anne, quite nonchalantly.
"Ha! you have seen her, then?" asked madame, with some surprise.
"My dear madame, I really would prefer saying nothing upon the subject. I answered your first question frankly, because I make it a point never to deceive you; but I really wish you would not question me, I dislike so much to speak ill of any one."
"But I insist upon knowing, Anne; in fact, I think it is quite unkind of you to have any secrets from me, so long as you have been in my confidence, too."
"Ah, well, dear madame, if you insist, I suppose I must yield, for I can refuse you nothing. The person you have been to see this morning is an arrant impostor. She is playing a deep game with you; her refusal is not sincere; she expects you will return and persist in asking for Charley, and intends then to make money out of the operation."
"Well, she is very much mistaken, then," said the old lady, indignant, as easily duped people are, who always fancy themselves a match for any double and twisted diplomatist, "very much mistaken, for I shall never go near her again. Then that story was all trumped up she told me about the baby being our Vincent's."
"Certainly," said Anne; "I tell you, my dear madame, she has played that game on several people beside you."
"Possible?" said the old lady, fanning herself violently; "the impudent little baggage! But how did you find it all out, Annie?"
"Ah! there, you must really excuse me, my dear madame. My informant is so afraid of being involved, that I was sworn to the strictest secrecy on that point, but, I assure you, my authority is reliable."