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.