'She is not visiting in this house, sir.'

'Is not this Arrowthorne Lodge?'

'Certainly not.'

'Then where is Arrowthorne Lodge, please?'

'Well, it is nearly a mile from here. Under the trees by the high-road.
If you go across by that footpath it will bring you out quicker than by
following the bend of the drive.'

Christopher wondered how he could have managed to get into the wrong
park; but, setting it down to his ignorance of the difference between oak
and elm, he immediately retraced his steps, passing across the park
again, through the gate at the end of the drive, and into the turnpike
road. No other gate, park, or country seat of any description was within
view.

'Can you tell me the way to Arrowthorne Lodge?' he inquired of the first
person he met, who was a little girl.

'You are just coming away from it, sir,' said she. 'I'll show you; I am
going that way.'

They walked along together. Getting abreast the entrance of the park he
had just emerged from, the child said, 'There it is, sir; I live there
too.'