The old woman wore a shawl, gipsy fashion, over her head, and reaching to her feet, which were shod in unusually large and heavy hob-nailed boots.

The faces and hands of both were black with dirt, and bronzed with heat, and as they stood there trembling in the grasp of the law, with chattering teeth and tottering knees, they looked a veritable picture of outcast humanity.
"Prudhom, my boy," whispered the magistrate to his guest, with a most unjudicial nudge, to emphasise his remarks, "they're old ones.

Was ever such luck! Knowing ones, too, I guess: they'll try to trick us with their gammon, you see.

He! he! Now, constable, what have you got here ?" For the first time the elderly couple lifted their heads and looked towards the Bench.

As they did so they uttered an incoherent ejaculation, and attempted to spring forward.