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 your arm, and Miss Grenville and I will follow, I am sure we are extremely obliged to you. Aileen, just pick up my netting mesh, it is in that puddle. Now, Blanche."

And before Blanche could name any objections, she found herself under the blue umbrella, her hand under Mrs. Hopkinson's fat arm, and both of them wading through the little rivulet that usually passed for the gravel walk. "There," said Mrs. Hopkinson, as they reached her door, "now, my girls will take care of you; and as I am wet through, and can't well get wetter, I'll just step back and tell your maid to send you some dry things, and as I know that kitchen of old, I daresay I can give your servants a useful hint about the smoke."

The Miss Hopkinsons were as hospitable as their mother, a fire was lighted in the best parlour, a sofa wheeled round for Blanche, who was looking pale and blue, slippers and dressing gowns produced, hot wine and water administered, and when Justine arrived with dry cloaks, they quietly withdrew, and left the ladies to their own devices.