She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf. "What's the matter?" he cried. That was what she was trying to make him understand. And she was as shrewd as they come. 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. Then he did give way a bit.
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