the girl rejoined her mother, the latter was still in thought--on quite
another matter than a young man's song.

"We've made a mistake," she whispered (that the Scotch-man might not
overhear). "On no account ought ye to have helped serve here to-night.
Not because of ourselves, but for the sake of him. If he should befriend
us, and take us up, and then find out what you did when staying here,
'twould grieve and wound his natural pride as Mayor of the town."

Elizabeth, who would perhaps have been more alarmed at this than her
mother had she known the real relationship, was not much disturbed about
it as things stood. Her "he" was another man than her poor mother's.
"For myself," she said, "I didn't at all mind waiting a little upon him.
He's so respectable, and educated--far above the rest of 'em in the inn.
They thought him very simple not to know their grim broad way of talking
about themselves here. But of course he didn't know--he was too refined
in his mind to know such things!" Thus she earnestly pleaded.

Meanwhile, the "he" of her mother was not so far away as even they
thought. After leaving the Three Mariners he had sauntered up and down
the empty High Street, passing and repassing the inn in his promenade.
When the Scotchman sang his voice had reached Henchard's ears through
the heart-shaped holes in the window-shutters, and had led him to pause
outside them a long while.

"To be sure, to be sure, how that fellow does draw me!" he had said to
himself. "I suppose 'tis because I'm so lonely. I'd have given him a
third share in the business to have stayed!"