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 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 taeake 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.