thoughts over their meal, the mother's face being strangely bright
since Henchard's avowal of shame for a past action. The quivering of the
partition to its core presented denoted that Donald Farfrae had again
rung his bell, no doubt to have his supper removed; for humming a tune,
and walking up and down, he seemed to be attracted by the lively bursts
of conversation and melody from the general company below. He sauntered
out upon the landing, and descended the staircase.

When Elizabeth-Jane had carried down his supper tray, and also that used
by her mother and herself, she found the bustle of serving to be at its
height below, as it always was at this hour. The young woman shrank from
having anything to do with the ground-floor serving, and crept silently
about observing the scene--so new to her, fresh from the seclusion of
a seaside cottage. In the general sitting-room, which was large, she
remarked the two or three dozen strong-backed chairs that stood round
against the wall, each fitted with its genial occupant; the sanded
floor; the black settle which, projecting endwise from the wall within
the door, permitted Elizabeth to be a spectator of all that went on
without herself being particularly seen.

The young Scotchman had just joined the guests. These, in addition to
the respectable master-tradesmen occupying the seats of privileges in
the bow-window and its neighbourhood, included an inferior set at the
unlighted end, whose seats were mere benches against the wall, and who
drank from cups instead of from glasses. Among the latter she noticed
some of those personages who had stood outside the windows of the King's
Arms.

Behind their backs was a small window, with a wheel ventilator in one
of the panes, which would suddenly start off spinning with a jingling