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. . . Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. "A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. " "But warn the aunt, prepare her, if she lives.
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