“Go, then, about your business,” said Mrs. Theresa, “and here’s a shilling for you, to drink, my honest fellow. I did not know you were so much bruised when I first saw you. I won’t detain you. Go,” said she, pushing Frederick towards the door. Marianne sprang forward to speak to him; but Mrs. Theresa kept her off; and, though Frederick resisted, the lady shut the door upon him by superior force, and, having locked it, there was no retreat. Mrs. Tattle and Marianne waited impatiently for Frederick’s return.
“I hear them,” cried Marianne, “I hear them coming downstairs.” They listened again, and all was silent. At length they suddenly heard a great noise of many steps in the hall.
“Merciful!” exclaimed Mrs. Theresa, “it must be your father and mother come back.” Marianne ran to unlock the room door, and Mrs. Theresa followed her into the hall. The hall was rather dark, but under the lamp a crowd of people, all the servants in the house having gathered together.
As Mrs. Theresa approached, the crowd opened in silence, and in the midst she beheld Frederick, with blood streaming from his face. His head was held by Christopher; and the chimney-sweeper was holding a basin for him. “Merciful! what will become of me?” exclaimed Mrs. Theresa. “Bleeding! he’ll bleed to death! Can nobody think of anything that will stop blood in a minute? A key, a large key down his back—a key—has nobody a key? Mr. and Mrs. Montague will be here before he has done bleeding. A key! cobwebs! a puff ball! for mercy’s sake! Can nobody think of anything that will stop blood in a minute? Gracious me! he’ll bleed to death, I believe.”
“He’ll bleed to death! Oh, my brother!” cried Marianne, catching hold of the words; and terrified, she ran upstairs, crying, “Sophy, oh, Sophy! come down this minute, or he’ll be dead! My brother’s bleeding to death! Sophy! Sophy! come down, or he’ll be dead!”
“Let go the basin, you,” said Christopher, pulling the basin out of the chimney-sweeper’s hand, who had all this time stood in silence; “you are not fit to hold the basin for a gentleman.”
“Let him hold it,” said Frederick; “he did not mean to hurt me.”
“That’s more than he deserves. I’m certain sure he might have known well enough it was Mr. Frederick all the time, and he’d no business to go to fight—such a one as he—with a gentleman.”
“I did not know he was a gentleman!” said the chimney-sweeper, “how could I?”
“How could he, indeed!” said Frederick; “he shall hold the basin.”