‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. What had she to do with such as these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it.
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