The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. . ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. " "You don't say so!" exclaimed Shotbolt. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection.
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