A gold chain was wound thrice round her neck, and looped up within her black silk bodice.

There were numerous rings on her fingers, and she perpetually smelt of peppermint.
"_Nu_, stand not chattering there," she went on.

"Come in.

Dost thou wish me to catch my death of cold ?" Moses slouched timidly within, his head bowed as if in dread of knocking against the top of the door.

The room was a perfect fac-simile of Milly's parlor at the other end of the diagonal, save that instead of the festive bottles and paper bags on the small side-table, there was a cheerless clothes-brush.