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Mamma and Aunt Bella sat in the dining-room, one on each side of the fireplace. Mamma looked strange and sunken and rather yellow in a widow's cap and a black knitted shawl, but Aunt Bella had turned herself into a large, comfortable sheep by means of a fleece of white shawl and an ice-wool hood peaked over her cap. There was a sweet, inky smell of black things dyed at Pullar's.
Decker, vague, garrulous, and given to ice-wool shawls, referred to her dead husband, in frequent reminiscence, as poor Mr. Decker. Mrs. Decker dragged one leg as she walked rheumatism, or a spinal affection.
The three voices failed, and the terrible, united laughter was just upon the point of breaking forth again when a diversion occurred. The door of the drawing-room was softly opened, and Mrs. Fancy Quinglet appeared upon the threshold, holding in her hands an ice-wool shawl for the comfort of her mistress.
She suddenly laid down the ice-wool shawl upon a neighbouring sociable, walked up to the phenomenon of the astronomer, and remarked to it with great distinctness, "You're about to burst, sir. I know it, sir, and I can't know other."
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