Perhaps they would find it for her, but it was very unlikely.
She had had it for a number of years.
She was a little woman, all skin and bone, with dried withered cheeks, a large brown nose and protruding ears.

Her face had formed severe lines in self-defence against her brother, but her eyes were mild, and when she smiled her mouth was rather pleasantly pathetic.
"Oh, she'll never do," thought Mrs.Cole, as she looked at her dripping in the hall.
"I can't think how I forgot it," said the poor lady, her mind fixed upon her umbrella.

"They said that perhaps they would find it for me, but there was a man in my carriage, I remember, who will most certainly have taken it--and it was a nice one with a silver handle." "Never mind," said Mrs.Cole cheerfully, "I'm sure they'll find it.

You must come up to the nursery--or the schoolroom I suppose we must call it now; there's a lovely fire there, and we'll both have tea with the children to-day, so as to feel at home, all of us, as quickly as possible." What Miss Jones wanted was to lie down on a bed in a dark room and try and conquer her neuralgia.

The thought of a lighted nursery filled her with dismay.