CHAPTER IX. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. . “What do you think you are doing?” He asked. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. A boy attempted to follow; but as the suspicions of the lookers-on were roused by the previous circumstances, the younger fugitive was seized and detained. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. And I am grateful to you. I have yet another. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Pilgrim's Progress, The Life of Martin Luther and Alice in Wonderland (the only fairy-story she had been permitted to read) were the sum total of her library.
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