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. He trembled violently. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin. We've got to get him to care. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. Some of my schemes are already in hand.
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