But he had recovered himself and his loyalty, and unhesitatingly
announced, "No, it's me," and was picking the bits of grass off his
cheeks and knees when I got down beside him.

"I'm sorry you came to take my walnuts like this," said the voice from
above. She had a particularly clear one, and we could hear it quite
well. "I got a basketful on purpose for you yesterday afternoon. If I
let it down by a string, do you think you can take it?"

Happily she did not wait for a reply, as we could not have got a word
out between us; but by and by the basketful of walnuts was pushed
through the lattice and began to descend. It came slowly and unsteadily,
and we had abundant leisure to watch it, and also, as we looked up, to
discover what it was that had so puzzled me in Mrs. Wood's
appearance--that when I first discovered that it was a head and not a
blunderbuss at the window I had not recognized it for hers.

She was without her widow's cap, which revealed the fact that her hair,
though the two narrow, smooth bands of it which appeared every day
beyond her cap were unmistakably grey, was different in some essential
respects from (say) Mrs. Jones's, our grey-haired washer-woman. The more
you saw of Mrs. Jones's head, the less hair you perceived her to have,
and the whiter that little appeared. Indeed, the knob into which it was
twisted at the back was much of the colour as well as of the size of a
tangled reel of dirty white cotton. But Mrs. Wood's hair was far more
abundant than our mother's, and it was darker underneath than on the
top--a fact which was more obvious when the knot into which it was
gathered in her neck was no longer hidden. Deep brown streaks were
mingled with the grey in the twists of this, and I could see them quite