Now, Sir. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. I was already established as Physician when your wedding day arrived. 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. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. .
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