" O'Higgins, bitten with disappointment, returned the photograph to his pocket. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. She shook her head. 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. " "Yes, yer hon'r," replied the chairman, taking the note.
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