She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. ” She replied. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs.
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