I had not seen Aunt Jane, except in church, since the day that she dismissed me, but she was no stiffer than usual, and gave me the candle readily enough.
'There,' she said, 'take it, and I wish it may bring light into your dark heart, and show you what a wicked thing it is to leave your own kith and kin and go to dwell in a tavern.' I was for saying that it was kith and kin that left me, and not I them; and as for living in a tavern, it was better to live there than nowhere at all, as she would wish me to do in turning me out of her house; but did not, and only thanked her for the candle, and was off.
When I came to the inn, there was the postchaise in front of the door, the horses being led away to bait, and a little group of villagers standing round; for though the auction of the Why Not?
was in itself a trite thing with a foregone conclusion, yet the bailiff's visit always stirred some show of interest.

There were a few children with their noses flattened against the windows of the parlour, and inside were Mr.Bailiff and Mr.Clerk hard at work on their dinner.

Mr.Bailiff, who was, as I guessed, the little man in the periwig, sat at the top of the table, and Mr.Clerk sat at the bottom, and on chairs were placed their hats, and travelling-cloaks, and bundles of papers tied together with green tape.
You may be sure that Elzevir had a good dinner for them, with hot rabbit pie and cold round of brawn, and a piece of blue vinny, which Mr.Bailiff ate heartily, but his clerk would not touch, saying he had as lief chew soap.

There was also a bottle of Ararat milk, and a flagon of ale, for we were afraid to set French wines before them, lest they should fall to wondering how they were come by.
Elzevir took the candle, chiding me a little for being late, and set it in a brass candlestick in the middle of the table.

Then Mr.Clerk takes a little rule from his pocket, measures an inch down on the candle, sticks into the grease at that point a scarf-pin with an onyx head that Elzevir lent him, and lights the wick.