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. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. A neat tale, giving little away.
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