Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands.
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