"
As they gained the level ground, Sydney said—-
"We will go in by the servants' entrance, it will make less fuss."
"Thank you;" and with a final pressure she loosed his hand, and led
the way through the long, flagged, bell-hung passage, and pointed to
a stair.
"That leads to the end of the gallery; you will see a red baize door,
and then you know your way."
Sydney knew that at this hour on Sunday, servants were not plentiful,
but she looked into the housekeeper's room where the select grandees
were at tea, and was received with an astounded "Miss Evelyn!" from
the housekeeper.
"Yes, Saunders; I should have been drowned, and little Peter Hollis
too, if it hadn't been for Mr. Friar Brownlow. He swam across Avon,
and has been knocked by a tree; and Reeves, would you be so very kind
as to go and see about him?"
Reeves, who had approved of Mr. Friar Brownlow ever since his race at
Schwarenbach, did not need twice bidding, but snatched up the kettle
and one of Mrs. Saunders's flasks, while that good lady administered
the like potion to Sydney and carried her off to be undressed. Mrs.
Evelyn was met upon the way, and while she was hearing her daughter's
story, in the midst of the difficulties of unfastening soaked
garments, there was a knock at the door.
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