Manning. The Old Mint. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. Sydney and Brendon vied with one another in their efforts to engage Anna in conversation, and Miss Ellicot, during the momentary lull, deemed it a favourable opportunity to recommence siege operations. “Let’s go. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. It was true. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in.
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