A blank dreariness spread over the market town. It was market day as every day except the day of rest was market day. Day of rest being one or seven. Each day names with worn irrelevant symbols, number unindicated, the day to commence counting a matter of preference. There being thus two streams within their society. Those who count the day of rest as one and those who count it as seven. As it was that the day of rest represented the high point of repression in the sequence of days, those who considered it the point of departure favoured its strictures throughout the remaining days. those who considered the first market day as the commencement of the sequence of days in turn favoured its characteristics. The combination of these two personalities resulted in business being done in the manner in which it was done. Repressive and acquisitive personalities locked together in a poisonous pyramid of social servicing. This was the scene on this day as the frosted grey dawn encrusted the cobbled streets already beginning their awakening as wagons of produce roll dragged by steaming horse flanks, each breath billowing in the sharp morning air. Orphans scurrying for cover. Hiding out through the day.