Standing by the side of the board, and
looking on with a skilled intelligence shining from her pale eyes,
was Mrs. Shales, with an infant in her arms--a wasted little
grandchild wrapt in a plaid shawl, apparently smoking a chibouque,
but in reality sucking vigorously at the mouthpiece of a baby's
bottle, which it was clasping deftly with its pink little fingers.
Mrs. Shales beckoned me mysteriously into her shop, and then into the
little parlour behind it, where she used to sit and watch the
customers through the green muslin blind of the glass door, like a
spider in its web. Young Shales, who left his board, followed us, and
they then gave me some news that at once decided my course of action.
They told me that one morning, after her frightful shock, Winifred
had encountered Shales, who was taking, a holiday, and employing it
in catching young crabs among the stones. Winifred, who had a great
liking for the hump-backed tailor, had come up to him and talked in a
dazed way. Shales, pitying her condition, had induced her to go home
with him; and then it had occurred to him to go and inquire at the
Hall what suggestion could be made concerning her at a house where
her father had been so well known.
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