She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. " "What shall I do?" cried Mrs. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. "Then I advise you to look sharply after him, Mr.
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