It was a long, bare room, newly boarded as to ceiling, flooring and walls. A smooth and shining counter stretched along the west side of the room, behind which stood rows of well filled bottles, ready to be uncorked. For ornament, upon the opposite wall there hung a great mirror, trying its best to duplicate the owner's stock in trade, as though he would be needing such help before the winter was over, when his whiskies were gone. For further brightening the room there hung suspended from gilt buttons close below the ceiling, certain representations of personages in garments too filmy to assure the observer that they were intended for this Arctic world, because rivalling the costumes of two solitary gardeners in the long ago.
However that may be, the pictures did not disturb Estella—as to the miners they were accustomed to these and many other sights. Something far worse to her troubled the Eskimo. It was hunger.
Suddenly one of the loungers, considerably younger that the others, said to his neighbors:
"I'll bet she's hungry."
"Very likely, Sam, they mostly always are. There's nothin' here to eat if she is, by George."
"Yes, at two bits a drink."
"Then straightening himself in his seat the first speaker called out:
"Stella!"
"What?" answered the woman in a low voice.