She entered a room lighted by a small metal lamp hanging on the wall--a precaution of Pennyloaf's own contrivance.

There was no bed, but one mattress lay with a few rags of bed-clothing spread upon it, and two others were rolled up in a corner.

This chamber accommodated, under ordinary circumstances, four persons: Mr.and Mrs.Candy, Pennyloaf, and a son named Stephen, whose years were eighteen.

(Stephen pursued the occupation of a potman; his hours were from eight in the morning till midnight on week-days, and on Sunday the time during which a public-house is permitted to be open; once a month he was allowed freedom after six o'clock.) Against the window was hung an old shawl pierced with many rents.

By the fire sat Mrs.Candy; she leaned forward, her head, which was bound in linen swathes, resting upon her hands.
'What have you got ?' she asked, in the thick voice of a drunkard, without moving.
'Eighteenpence; it's all they'd give me.' The woman cursed in her throat, but exhibited no anger with Pennyloaf.
'Go an' get some tea an' milk,' she said, after a pause.