The truckle-bed on which her grandfather slept had been arranged for the day some two hours ago; Snowdon rose at six, and everything was orderly in the room when Jane came to prepare breakfast an hour later.

At present the old man was sitting by the open window, smoking a pipe.

He spoke a few words with reference to the Byasses, then seemed to resume a train of thought, and for a long time there was unbroken silence.
Jane seated herself at a table, on which were a few books and writing materials.

She began to copy something, using the pen with difficulty, and taking extreme pains.

Occasionally her eyes wandered, and once they rested upon her grandfather's face for several minutes.