“You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks.
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