And this was a new torture to him.
When he got down to the New Inn, at Bretty, his father was not yet come.
Mrs.Wharmby, the landlady, knew him.

His grandmother, Morel's mother, had been Mrs.Wharmby's friend.
"Your father's not come yet," said the landlady, in the peculiar half-scornful, half-patronising voice of a woman who talks chiefly to grown men.

"Sit you down." Paul sat down on the edge of the bench in the bar.

Some colliers were "reckoning"-- sharing out their money--in a corner; others came in.

They all glanced at the boy without speaking.