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.