“I tell my Mom everything. He had just arrived from Manchester, whence he had been summoned by that treacherous thief-taker. You’re just a particular being with nothing else in the world to class with you. 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. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence.
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