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."