Her lips parted, but no words came. Then he got up and left her. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. In rushed Mr. Sheppard. 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.
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