But to choose this of all moments. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. 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. His employer retreated into the further apartment, leaving the door ajar. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please.
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