"Something about Miss Mordaunt," replied the girl, who firmly believed the Dumplington story and entertained a proportionate amount of respect towards the young gentleman who was heir to so honourable and distinguished a title.
"Come—out with it, my dear," exclaimed Frank. "Business first, and love afterwards—as my dear lamented friend the Prince of Cochin-China used to say when we were intimate together in Paris, before he hung himself for love in his garters."
"Did he, though?" cried the lady's-maid. "How shocking!"
"Shocking enough, my dear. But pray tell me what you have to say about Miss Mordaunt."
"Why, sir," resumed Charlotte, "this evening when I was dressing her for dinner, she began to sound me about how I liked my place in Lady Hatfield's service, and whether I should be glad to better myself. So, keeping in mind what you had told me to do, I seemed to fall in to all she asked me, and gave her to understand that I shouldn't object to better myself. Then she began to simper and smile, and at last let out plump that she was going to run away with a gentleman—but she didn't say who—to-morrow night."
"That gentleman, my dear, is an uncle of mine," said Curtis.
"I'll be bound, then, it's the same Sir Christopher Blunt——"
"The very same, my dear. But go on: you speak almost as well as I did when I was in Parliament—or as my uncle the Earl of Dumplington."
"Do I, though? Well," continued Charlotte, "and so Miss Mordaunt told me how she couldn't think of travelling alone with the gentleman, and that she must have a lady's-maid——"
"And you agreed to go with her?" cried Frank.