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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"The Mayor of Casterbridge"

But even here her stepfather could not be seen.
"Not by his daughter?" pleaded Elizabeth.
"By nobody--at present: that's his order," she was informed.
Afterwards she was passing by the corn-stores and hay-barns which had
been the headquarters of his business. She knew that he ruled there
no longer; but it was with amazement that she regarded the familiar
gateway. A smear of decisive lead-coloured paint had been laid on to
obliterate Henchard's name, though its letters dimly loomed through like
ships in a fog. Over these, in fresh white, spread the name of Farfrae.
Abel Whittle was edging his skeleton in at the wicket, and she said,
"Mr. Farfrae is master here?"
"Yaas, Miss Henchet," he said, "Mr. Farfrae have bought the concern and
all of we work-folk with it; and 'tis better for us than 'twas--though
I shouldn't say that to you as a daughter-law. We work harder, but we
bain't made afeard now. It was fear made my few poor hairs so thin! No
busting out, no slamming of doors, no meddling with yer eternal soul and
all that; and though 'tis a shilling a week less I'm the richer man; for
what's all the world if yer mind is always in a larry, Miss Henchet?"
The intelligence was in a general sense true; and Henchard's stores,
which had remained in a paralyzed condition during the settlement of
his bankruptcy, were stirred into activity again when the new tenant had
possession.


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