Claude now asked Jane for the sealing-wax, folded up his letter, sealed it, put on a stamp, and as Jane was leaving the room at bedtime, said, ‘Jenny, my dear, as you go by, just put that letter in the post-bag.’ Jane obeyed, and left the room. Claude soon after took the letter out of the bag, went to Emily’s door, listened to ascertain that Jane was not there, and then knocked and was admitted. ‘I could not help coming,’ said he, ‘to tell you of the trap in which Brownie has been caught.’ ‘Ah!’ said Lily, ‘I fancied I saw her peeping slyly at your letter.’ ‘Just so,’ said Claude, ‘and I hope she has experienced the truth of an old proverb.’ ‘Oh! tell us what you have said,’ cried the sisters. Claude read, ‘Jane desires me to say that a hood for the baby shall be sent in the course of a week, and she hopes that it may be worn at the christening. I should rather say I hope it may be lost in the transit, for assuredly the head that it covers must be infected with something far worse than the scarlet fever—the fever of curiosity, the last quality which I should like my godson to possess. My only consolation is, that he will see the full deformity of the vice, as, poor little fellow, he becomes acquainted with “that worst of plagues, a prying maiden aunt.” If Jane was simply curious, I should not complain, but her love of investigation is not directed to what ought to be known, but rather to find out some wretched subject for petty scandal, to blacken every action, and to add to the weight of every misdeed, and all for the sake of detailing her discoveries in exchange for similar information with Mrs. Appleton, or some equally suitable confidante.’ ‘Is that all?’ said Lily. ‘And enough, too, I hope,’ said Claude. ‘It ought to cure her!’ cried Emily. ‘Cure her!’ said Claude, ‘no such thing; cures are not wrought in this way; this is only a joke, and to keep it up, I will tell you a piece of news, which Jane must have spied out in my letter, as I had just written it when I saw her eyes in a suspicious direction. It was settled that Messieurs Maurice and Redgie are to go for two hours a day, three times a week, to Mr. Stevens, during the holidays.’ ‘The new Stoney Bridge curate?’ said Emily. ‘I am very glad you are not to be bored by them,’ said Lily, ‘but how they will dislike it!’ ‘It is very hard upon them,’ said Claude, ‘and I tried to prevent it, but the Baron was quite determined. Now I will begin to talk about this plan, and see whether Jenny betrays any knowledge of it.’ ‘Oh! it will be rare!’ cried Lily; ‘but do not speak of it before the Baron or William.’ ‘Let it be at luncheon,’ said Emily, ‘you know they never appear. Do you mean to send the letter?’ ‘Not that part of it,’ said Claude, ‘you see I can tear off the last page, and it is only to add a new conclusion. Good-night.’