"
"No, mum," replied the young giant with a grin.
"How many runs did you make last Saturday?"
"Fifty-three, mum, and caught out."
"Then don't go talking to me about the heat. Finish that job and run
off with this filter to Mrs. Gubbins's."
Her life had not lacked variety. Married at eighteen, after a
month's courtship, to a man of whom she knew next to nothing, she
lived for a time in Liverpool, where her husband--older by ten
years--pursued various callings in the neighbourhood of the docks.
After the birth of her only child, a daughter, they migrated to
Glasgow, and struggled with great poverty for several years. This
period was closed by the sudden disappearance of Mr. Clover. He did
not actually desert his wife and child; at regular intervals letters
and money arrived from him addressed to the care of Mrs. Clover's
parents, who kept a china shop at Islington; beyond the postmarks,
which indicated constant travel in England and abroad, these letters
(always very affectionate) gave no information as to the writer's
circumstances.
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