THE BRASS BOWL
And, as if affected by its terror, the grey girl slipped silently into the area and tapped at the lighted window.
Almost immediately the gate was cautiously opened. A woman's head looked out, with suspicion. "Oh, thank Heavens!" it said with abrupt fervor. "I was afraid it mightn't be you, Miss Sylvia. I'm so glad you're back. There ain't—hasn't been a minute these past two nights that I haven't been in a fidget."
The girl laughed quietly and passed through the gateway (which was closed behind her) into the basement hall, where she lingered a brief moment.
"My father, Annie?" she inquired.
"He ain't—hasn't stirred since you went out, Miss Sylvia. He's sleepin' peaceful as a lamb."
"Everything is all right, then?"
"Now that you're home, it is, praises be!" The servant secured the inner door and turned up the gas. "Not if I was to be given notice to-morrow mornin'," she announced firmly, "will I ever consent to be a party to such goin's-on another night."
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