"
The poverty of the former occupants was apparent from a glance about
the room, on one side of which was a half-cupboard, half-wardrobe, the
open door of which showed sundry worn, dirty garments, little more
than collections of rags.
"There is another room in front," remarked Bob. "From the look of
things here, though, we can hardly expect to find any clothing that
will serve our purposes."
Dicky stepped toward the door leading to the front of the building.
"It is as silent as the grave, without a doubt," he said as he turned
the handle and pushed gently. The door would not open.
"Stand back and let me shove," said Bob.
He put his shoulder against the door and threw his weight against
it. The flimsy lock broke at the first strain, and Bob caught himself
just in time to save himself from falling. No sooner had the boys
gained an entrance to the room than they saw they were not the only
occupants of it. On one side stood a low bed, upon which rested the
wasted form of an old woman, her white hair pushed smoothly back
from her forehead, but spread in tumbled disorder on the pillow.
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