head in a pocket-handkerchief, knotted under the chin. This headgear, in conjunction with a pair of gloves worn within doors, she seemed to consider as at once a kind of armour against misfortune (invariably assuming it when in low spirits or difficulties), and as a species of full dress. It was therefore with some sinking of the spirit that her husband beheld her thus heroically attired, putting down her candle in the little hall, and coming down the doorsteps through the little front court to open the gate for him.
Something had gone wrong with the house-door, for R. Wilfer stopped on the steps, staring at it, and cried:
“Hal‑loa?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Wilfer, “the man came himself with a pair of pincers, and took it off, and took it away. He said that as he had no expectation of ever being paid for it, and as he had an order for another Ladies’ School doorplate, it was better (burnished up) for the interests of all parties.”