Joanna Godden | Page 9

marsh, for the vivid green of the pastures
was filmed over with the brown of the withering seed-grasses, and the
big clumps of trees that protected every dwelling were richly toned to
rust through scales of flame. Already there were signs that the day
would be hot, and Joanna sighed to think that approaching winter had
demanded that her new best black should be made of thick materials.
She hated black, too, and grimaced at her sombre frills, which the
mourning brooch and chain of jet beads could only embellish, never

lighten. But she would as soon have thought of jumping out of the
window as of discarding her mourning a day before the traditions of the
Marsh decreed. She decided not to wear her brooch and chain--the
chain might swing and catch in the beasts' horns as she inspected them,
besides her values demanded that she should be slightly more splendid
in church than at market, so her ornaments were reserved as a crowning
decoration, all except her mourning ring made of a lock of her father's
hair.
It was the first time she had been to market since his death, and she
knew that folks would stare, so she might as well give them something
to stare at. Outside the front door, in the drive, old Stuppeny was
holding the head of Foxy, her mare, harnessed to the neat trap that
Thomas Godden had bought early the same year.
"Hullo, Stuppeny--you ain't coming along like that!" and Joanna's eye
swept fiercely up and down his manure-caked trousers.
"I never knew as I wur coming along anywheres, Miss Joanna."
"You're coming along of me to the market. Surely you don't expect a
lady to drive by herself?"
Old Stuppeny muttered something unintelligible.
"You go and put on your black coat," continued Joanna.
"My Sunday coat!" shrieked Stuppeny.
"Yes--quick! I can't wait here all day."
"But I can't put on my good coat wudout cleaning myself, and it'll täake
me the best part o' the marnun to do that."
Joanna saw the reasonableness of his objection.
"Oh, well, you can leave it this once, but another time you remember
and look decent. To-day it'll do if you go into the kitchen and ask Grace
to take a brush to your trousers--and listen here!" she called after him

as he shambled off--"if she's making cocoa you can ask her to give you
a cup."
Grace evidently was making cocoa--a habit she had whenever her
mistress's back was turned--for Stuppeny did not return for nearly a
quarter of an hour. He looked slightly more presentable as he climbed
into the back of the trap. It struck Joanna that she might be able to get
him a suit of livery secondhand.
"There isn't much he's good for on the farm now at his age, so he may
as well be the one to come along of me. Broadhurst or Luck ud look a
bit smarter, but it ud be hard to spare them.... Stuppeny ud look
different in a livery coat with brass buttons.... I'll look around for one if
I've time this afternoon."
It was nearly seven miles from Ansdore to Lydd, passing the Woolpack,
and the ragged gable of Midley Chapel--a reproachful ruin among the
reeds of the Wheelsgate Sewer. Foxy went smartly, but every now and
then they had to slow down as they overtook and passed flocks of
sheep and cattle being herded along the road by drovers and shepherds
in dusty boots, and dogs with red, lolling tongues. It was after midday
when the big elm wood which had been their horizon for the last two
miles suddenly turned, as if by an enchanter's wand, into a fair-sized
town of red roofs and walls, with a great church tower raking above the
trees.
Joanna drove straight to the Crown, where Thomas Godden had "put
up" every market day for twenty years. She ordered her dinner--boiled
beef and carrots, and jam roll--and walked into the crowded coffee
room, where farmers from every corner of the three marshes were
already at work with knife and fork. Some of them knew her by sight
and stared, others knew her by acquaintance and greeted her, while
Arthur Alce jumped out of his chair, dropping his knife and sweeping
his neighbour's bread off the table. He was a little shocked and alarmed
to see Joanna the only woman in the room; he suggested that she
should have her dinner in the landlady's parlour--"you'd be quieter like,
in there."

"I don't want to be quiet, thank you," said Joanna.
She felt thankful that none of the few empty chairs was next Alce's--she
could never abide his fussing. She sat down between Cobb of Slinches
and a farmer from Snargate way, and opened the conversation
pleasantly on the