Henchard mechanically did, her attention being fixed on the
conversation through the door.
"I merely strolled in on my way home to ask you a question about
something that has excited my curiosity," said the Mayor, with careless
geniality. "But I see you have not finished supper."
"Ay, but I will be done in a little! Ye needn't go, sir. Take a seat.
I've almost done, and it makes no difference at all."
Henchard seemed to take the seat offered, and in a moment he resumed:
"Well, first I should ask, did you write this?" A rustling of paper
followed.
"Yes, I did," said the Scotchman.
"Then," said Henchard, "I am under the impression that we have met by
accident while waiting for the morning to keep an appointment with each
other? My name is Henchard, ha'n't you replied to an advertisement for a
corn-factor's manager that I put into the paper--ha'n't you come here to
see me about it?"
"No," said the Scotchman, with some surprise.
"Surely you are the man," went on Henchard insistingly, "who arranged to
come and see me? Joshua, Joshua, Jipp--Jopp--what was his name?"
"You're wrong!" said the young man. "My name is Donald Farfrae. It is
true I am in the corren trade--but I have replied to no advertisement,
and arranged to see no one. I am on my way to Bristol--from there to the
other side of the warrld, to try my fortune in the great wheat-growing
districts of the West! I have some inventions useful to the trade, and
there is no scope for developing them heere.
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