” “What?” He asked, confused. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain.
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