"I can't tell, Susan. But it's very interesting, isn't it? Quite like a novel. And you shall have that green-velvet hat of mine."
Clare was intensely curious to know the rights of this quarrel between her rival and Lorin Armstrong. "Pumping" Laline was never any use; but by adroit flattery and artful questions she could sometimes extract information from her aunt, even though the latter resented her intrusion in the study during working hours. But, with the secretary in tears in her room, Clare decided she might risk it, and she accordingly sped lightly to the study door, and, after an admonitory tap, burst in with a great appearance of spontaneity.
"Oh, auntie," she exclaimed, "do let me run in for a few minutes' chat! Why, where is Lina?"
"She is ill—a headache or something. Pray don't flutter, Clare! Fluttering gets on my nerves."
"I wonder what is the matter with Lina?" Clare remarked, taking a seat and slowly removing her hat. "Have you noticed how strangely she has altered since her engagement?"
"All girls alter when they get engaged," said her aunt, maliciously. "Joy turns their heads, I suppose."
"I don't think it's joy in Lina's case," pursued Clare, shaking her head doubtfully. "No; it seems to me she has something on her mind."
"What do you mean?"
By her aunt's tone Clare divined she was on the right tack.
"Well, do you know, Aunt Cissy," she said, with confidential mystery, "I have some reason for supposing that Lina knows of a secret barrier between her and Mr. Armstrong—that is why she is trying to break with him—before he finds it out, I mean."