cottage, all rusted over with lichen, and sometimes Joanna felt sorry
for Socknersh away there by himself beside the Ditch. She sent him over
a flock mattress and a woollen blanket, in case the old ague-spectre of
the Marsh still haunted that desolate corner of water and reeds.




§12

Towards the end of that autumn, Joanna and Ellen Godden came out of
their mourning. As was usual on such occasions, they chose a Sunday for
their first appearance in colours. Half mourning was not worn on the
Marsh, so there was no interval of grey and violet between Joanna's
hearse-like costume of crape and nodding feathers and the tan-coloured
gown in which she astonished the twin parishes of Brodnyx and Pedlinge
on the first Sunday in November. Her hat was of sage green and contained
a bird unknown to natural history. From her ears swung huge jade
earrings, in succession to the jet ones that had dangled against her
neck on Sundays for a year--she must have bought them, for everyone knew
that her mother, Mary Godden, had left but one pair.

Altogether the sight of Joanna was so breathless, that a great many
people never noticed Ellen, or at best only saw her hat as it went past
the tops of their pews. Joanna realized this, and being anxious that no
one should miss the sight of Ellen's new magenta pelisse with facings of
silver braid, she made her stand on the seat while the psalms were sung.

The morning service was in Brodnyx church--in the evening it would be at
Pedlinge. Brodnyx had so far escaped the restorer, and the pews were