All sorts of other broken-down furniture were about this place; an antiquated
clothes-horse, cracked in two of its ribs; a broken mirror in an old cherry frame,
which had fallen from a nail and cracked itself three days before their youngest
son, Jerry, died; an extension hat-rack, which once had had porcelain knobs on
the ends of its pegs; and a sewing machine, long since outdone in its clumsy
mechanism by rivals of a newer generation.