She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. "Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. 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. “Why?” he asked, suavely. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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