Supper was soon ready in the comfortable kitchen. A cold shoulder of
mutton, a piece of cheese, pickled beetroot, a seed-cake, and
raspberry jam; such was the fare to which Bessie Byass invited her
husband and her guest. On a side-table were some open cardboard
boxes containing artificial flowers and leaves; for Bessie had now
and then a little 'mounting' to do for a shop in Upper Street, and
in that way aided the income of the family. She was in even better
spirits than usual at the prospect of letting her top-rooms. On
hearing that piece of news, Samuel, who had just come from the
nearest public-house with a foaming jug, executed a wild dance round
the room and inadvertently knocked two plates from the dresser. This
accident made his wife wrathful, but only for a moment; presently
she was laughing as unrestrainedly as ever, and bestowing upon the
repentant young man her familiar flattery.

At eleven o'clock Sidney left them, and mused with smiles on his way
home. This was not exactly his ideal of domestic happiness, yet it
was better than the life led by the Hewetts--better than that of
other households with which he was acquainted--better far, it
seemed to him, than the aspirations which were threatening to lead
poor Clara--who knew whither? A temptation beset him to walk round
into Upper Street and pass Mrs. Tubbs's bar. He resisted it, knowing
that the result would only be a night of sleepless anger and misery.

The next day he again saw Snowdon, and spoke to him of Mrs. Byass's
rooms. The old man seemed at first indisposed to go so far; but when
he had seen the interior of the house and talked with the landlady,
his objections disappeared. Before another week had passed the two
rooms were furnished in the simplest possible way, and Snowdon