ring in
the morning gloom, which he soon perceived to be part of Abel's shirt
that showed below his waistcoat.

"For maircy's sake, what object's this?" said Farfrae, following Abel
into the yard, Henchard being some way in the rear by this time.

"Ye see, Mr. Farfrae," gibbered Abel with a resigned smile of terror,
"he said he'd mortify my flesh if so be I didn't get up sooner, and now
he's a-doing on't! Ye see it can't be helped, Mr. Farfrae; things do
happen queer sometimes! Yes--I'll go to Blackmoor Vale half naked as
I be, since he do command; but I shall kill myself afterwards; I can't
outlive the disgrace, for the women-folk will be looking out of their
winders at my mortification all the way along, and laughing me to scorn
as a man 'ithout breeches! You know how I feel such things, Maister
Farfrae, and how forlorn thoughts get hold upon me. Yes--I shall do
myself harm--I feel it coming on!"

"Get back home, and slip on your breeches, and come to wark like a man!
If ye go not, you'll ha'e your death standing there!"

"I'm afeard I mustn't! Mr. Henchard said----"

"I don't care what Mr. Henchard said, nor anybody else! 'Tis simple
foolishness to do this. Go and dress yourself instantly Whittle."

"Hullo, hullo!" said Henchard, coming up behind. "Who's sending him
back?"

All the men looked towards Farfrae.

"I am," said Donald. "I say this joke has been carried far enough."

"And I say it hasn't! Get up in the waggon, Whittle."

"Not if I am manager," said Farfrae. "He either goes home, or I march
out of this yard for good."

Henchard looked at him with a face stern and red. But he paused for
a moment, and their eyes met. Donald went up to him, for he saw in
Henchard's look that he began to regret this.

"Come," said Donald quietly, "a man o' your position should ken better,
sir! It is tyrannical and no worthy of you."

"'Tis not tyrannical!" murmured Henchard, like a sullen boy. "It is to
make him remember!" He presently added, in a tone of one bitterly hurt:
"Why did you speak to me before them like that, Farfrae? You might have
stopped till we were alone. Ah--I know why! I've told ye the secret o'
my life--fool that I was to do't--and you take advantage of me!"

"I had forgot it," said Farfrae simply.

Henchard looked on the ground, said nothing more, and turned away.
During the day Farfrae learnt from the men that Henchard had kept Abel's
old mother in coals and snuff all the previous winter,