The meal had been in preparation at an eating-house close by, and was now speedily made ready in the parlour.

A liberal supply of various ales was furnished by the agency of a pot-boy (Jane's absence being much felt), and in the course of half an hour or so the company were sufficiently restored to address themselves anew to the bottles and decanters.

Mrs.Gully was now permitted to obey her instincts; the natural result could be attributed to overstrung feelings.
Just when the mourners had grown noisily hilarious, testifying thereby to the respectability with which things were being conducted to the very end, Mrs.Peckover became aware of a knocking at the front-door.
She bade her daughter go and see who it was.

Clem, speedily returning, beckoned her mother from among the guests.
'It's somebody wants to know if there ain't somebody called Snowdon livin' 'ere,' she whispered in a tone of alarm.

'An old man.' Mrs.Peckover never drank more than was consistent with the perfect clearness of her brain.