David Courtlaw. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. ToC Thames Darrell's fears were not, however, groundless. Then he stood up and repeated it again. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end.
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