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. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Ramage tethered the horse to the farther gate-post, and Caesar blew heavily and began to investigate the hedge. " "Worth anything?" "I don't know. ‘I do not remember the name,’ Melusine said, turning to Mrs Ibstock.
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