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. " The little girl's countenance fell. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. For that matter, my future be damned. There were three exit doors. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. \" \"Good night, Mom. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy.
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