"That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. 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. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. "Mr. You see, my riddle is solved.
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