GOOD LUCK

CHAPTER I.

Amongst the crowd of people who were waiting in the Out-Patients'
Department of the London Hospital on a certain foggy day toward the
latter end of November might have been seen an old cherry-cheeked
woman. She had bright blue eyes and firm, kindly lips. She was a
little woman, slightly made, and her whole dress and appearance were
somewhat old-fashioned. In the first place, she was wonderfully
pretty. Her little face looked something like a russet apple, so clear
was her complexion and so bright and true the light in her eyes. Her
hair was snow-white, and rather fluffy in texture; it surrounded her
forehead like a silver halo, adding to the picturesque effect of apple
cheeks and deep blue eyes. Her attire was quaint and old-fashioned.
She wore a neat black dress, made without the least attempt at
ornament; round her neck was a snowy kerchief of somewhat coarse but
perfectly clean muslin; over her shoulders a little black shawl was
folded corner-ways, and pinned neatly with a large black-headed pin at
her breast. A peep of the snowy handkerchief showed above the shawl;
the handkerchief vied with the white of her hair. On her head was a
drawn black silk bonnet with a tiny border of white net inside. Her
hands were clothed in white cotton gloves. She stood on the borders of
the crowd, one of them, and yet apart from them, noticeable to everyone
present by her pretty, dainty neatness, and by the look of health which
to all appearance she possessed. This had evidently been her first
visit to the Out-Patients' Department. Some _habitués_ of the place
turned and stared at her, and one or two women who stood
near--burdened, pallid, ill-looking women--gave her a quick glance of
envy, and asked her with a certain show of curiosity what ailed her.