The scheme of acting without her husband’s consent in all cases, where she was morally certain that if she asked she could not obtain it, Mrs. Ludgate had often pursued with much success. A few days after she had bought the spring hat, she invited Mrs. Pimlico, Mrs. Paget, and all her genteel friends, to tea and cards. Her husband, she knew, would be out of the way, at his club, or at the tavern. Mrs. Pimlico, and Mrs. Paget, and all their genteel friends, did Mrs. Ludgate the honour to wait upon her on the appointed evening, and she had the satisfaction to appear upon this occasion in the new spring hat; while her friend, Mrs. Pimlico, whispered to young Mrs. Paget, “She patronize the new spring hat! What a fool Mrs. la Mode makes of her! A death’s head in a wreath of roses! How frightfully ridiculous!”
Unconscious that she was an object of ridicule to the whole company, Mrs. Ludgate sat down to cards in unusually good spirits, firmly believing Mrs. la Mode’s comfortable assertion, “that the spring hat made her look ten years younger.” She was in the midst of a panegyric upon Mrs. la Mode’s taste, when Jack, the footboy, came behind her chair, and whispered that three men were below, who desired to speak to her immediately.
“Men! gentlemen, do you mean?” said Mrs. Ludgate.
“No, ma’am, not gentlemen.” “Then send them away about their business, dunce,” said the lady. “Some tradesfolk, I suppose; tell them I’m engaged with company.”
“But, ma’am, they will not leave the house without seeing you, or Mr. Ludgate.”
“Let them wait, then, till Mr. Ludgate comes in. I have nothing to say to them. What’s their business, pray?”
“It is something about a note, ma’am, that you gave to Mrs. la Mode, the other day.”
“What about it?” said Mrs. Ludgate, putting down her cards.
“They say it is a bad note.”
“Well, I’ll change it; bid them send it up.”