Hardy uses foreshadowing to suggest coming back was an unwise choice soon after Susan and Elizabeth-Jane return to England from Canada in Chapter 3. When Susan and her daughter return to the tent in Casterbridge where Henchard originally “sold” them, the surprisingly deteriorated state of the elderly furmity-seller reflects the nasty and unexpected events that are about to unfold:
It was indeed the former mistress of the furmity tent—once thriving, cleanly, white-aproned, and chinking with money—now tentless, dirty, owning no tables or benches, and having scarce any customers except two small whity-brown boys, who came up and asked for “A ha’p’orth, please—good measure,” which she served in a couple of chipped yellow basins of commonest clay.
Hardy draws a direct comparison here between the “mistress” of the furmity tent in the past and in the present. While she used to be “thriving, cleanly, white-aproned and chinking with money,” she is now “tentless, dirty, owning no table or benches and having scarcely any customers.” These lists when placed side by side directly oppose one another in their content, hammering in how poorly her situation has progressed. Everything about her has declined significantly, and Casterbridge’s welcome is not a warm one for Elizabeth-Jane and her mother.
Even the furmity itself has deteriorated in quality, where before it was rich and studded with "nuts and currants," it is now a mean "gruel." The "thriving" woman of the past has been replaced with a haggard crone, who is still offering to illegally spike the meals with a "touch of rum." Through this, Hardy also implies the destructive nature of alcohol abuse in this encounter, which is only emphasized later by Michael Henchard's poor choices. The furmity-woman is a petty criminal, as it was illegal to sell alcohol without a license in locations like her tent. The strict morality of the novel dictates that her poor behavior be reflected in her material condition, which also foreshadows the eventual result of Henchard's actions.
