The first person who issued from the Lodge was Mr. A sudden knock at the door startled her. Rummage, my boy, do. 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. “It is true. I will go to-night. “My dear sweet Lucia. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. Late in July he finished the fourth story.
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