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. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. She’s a cheerleader, of course, but they say she has always been a second tier 38 cheerleader because she’s kind of big and hefty. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice.
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