"You'll get them beasts," she called after him.

"Surelye"--came in a protesting drawl. Then "Yup!--Yup!" to the two
sheep dogs couched on the doorstep.




§6

What with supervising the work and herding slackers, getting her
breakfast and packing off Ellen to the little school she went to at Rye,
Joanna found all too soon that the market hour was upon her. It did not
strike her to shirk this part of a farmer's duty--she would drive into
Rye and into Lydd and into Romney as her father had always driven,
inspecting beasts and watching prices. Soon after ten o'clock she ran
upstairs to make herself splendid, as the occasion required.

By this time the morning had lifted itself out of the mist. Great sheets
of blue covered the sky and were mirrored in the dykes--there was a soft
golden glow about the 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