"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. She traced him by his scent. . . "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. gutenberg. "Now stand before me, Poll. You know the sort of thing. This, then, was the woman from whom Hoddy would not have accepted a cup of water.
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