"Don't you see she is lame?" said Esther.

This gentlewoman, whose infirmity had kept her so far in the rear of the
crowd, now came hobbling on, glided unobserved by the polemic group, and
paused on the left brink of the fountain, within a few feet of the two
spectators. She was a magnificent old dame, as ever mortal eye beheld.
Her spangled shoes and goldclocked stockings shone gloriously within the
spacious circle of a red hoop-petticoat, which swelled to the very point
of explosion, and was bedecked all over with embroidery a little
tarnished. Above the petticoat, and parting in front so as to display
it to the best advantage, was a figured blue damask gown. A wide and
stiff ruff encircled her neck, a cap of the finest muslin, though rather
dingy, covered her head; and her nose was bestridden by a pair of gold-
bowed spectacles with enormous glasses. But the old lady's face was
pinched, sharp and sallow, wearing a niggardly and avaricious
expression, and forming an odd contrast to the splendor of her attire,
as did likewise the implement which she held in her hand. It was a sort
of iron shovel (by housewives termed a "slice"), such as is used in
clearing the oven, and with this, selecting a spot between a walnut-tree
and the fountain, the good dame made an earnest attempt to dig. The
tender sods, however, possessed a strange impenetrability. They
resisted her efforts like a quarry of living granite, and losing her
breath, she cast down the shovel and seemed to bemoan herself most
piteously, gnashing her teeth (what few she had) and wringing her thin
yellow hands. Then, apparently with new hope, she resumed her toil,
which still had the same result,--a circumstance the less surprising to
David and Esther, because at times they would catch the moonlight
shining through the old woman, and dancing in the fountain beyond. The
little man in goldlace now happened to see her, and made his approach on
tiptoe.