The Real Charlotte. 227 



and I'm not one to make an assertion without adequate 

 grounds for it/' she said in her strong, acrid voice ; '• as I 

 said before, this flirtation is an old story. I have my own 

 reasons for knowing that there was more going on than any- 

 one suspected, from the time she was in short frocks till she 

 came down here, and now, if she hadn't another affair on 

 hand, she'd have the whole country in a blaze about it. 

 Why, d'ye know that habit she wears ? It was your hus- 

 band paid for that ! '* 



She emphasised each word between her closed teeth, and 

 her large face was so close to Mrs. Lambert's, by the time 

 she had finished speaking, that the latter shrank back. 



" I don't believe you, Charlotte," she said with trembling 

 lips ; " how do you know it ? " 



Charlotte had no intention of telling that her source of in- 

 formation had been the contents of a writing-case of Francie's, 

 an absurd receptacle for photographs and letters that bore 

 the word " Papeterie " on its greasy covers, and had a lock 

 bearing a family resemblance to the lock of Miss Mullen's 

 work-box. But a cross-examination by the turkey-hen was 

 easily evaded. 



"Never you mind how I know it. It's true." Then, with 

 a connection of ideas that she would have taken more pains 

 to conceal in dealing with anyone else, ''Did ye ever see 

 any of theietters she wrote to him when she was in Dublin?" 



" No, Charlotte ; I'm. not in the habit of looking at my 

 husband's letters. I think the tea is drawn," she continued, 

 making a last struggle to maintain her position, " and I'd 

 be glad to hear no more on the subject." She took the 

 cosy off the tea-pot, and began to pour out the tea, but her 

 hands were shaking, and Charlotte's eye made her nervous. 

 " Oh, I'm very tired — I'm too long without my tea. Oh, 

 Charlotte, why do you annoy me this way when you know 

 it's so bad for me?" She put down the tea-pot, and 

 covered her face with her hands. " Is it me own dear 

 husband that you say such things of? Oh, it couldn't be 

 true, and he always so kind to me ; indeed, it isn't true, 

 Charlotte," she protested piteously between her sobs. 



" Me dear Lucy," said Charlotte, laying her broad hand 

 on Mrs. Lambert's knee, " I wish I could say it wasn't, 

 though of course the wisest of us is liable to error. Come 



