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"I'd have had her at it too, only she didn't want to come, and you haven't got the proper clothes. Arthur, if you take my advice, you'll go into Lydd this very day and buy yourself an evening suit." "Ellen won't let me. She says I'd look a clown in it." "Ellen's getting very short. What's happened to her these days?"
Memorials to deceased Freemasons are perhaps the most frequent of late carvings, as in the sketch from Lydd in the Romney Marsh district. "To John Finn, died June 9th, 1813, aged 30 years." Occasionally, too, some plain device appears on even a modern headstone, such as the following, which is one of the few I have from the London area.
Joanna resolved not to go on to New Romney, as they had waited too long at Lydd; so she took the road that goes to Ivychurch, past Midley chapel, one of the ruined shrines of the monks of Canterbury grey walls huddled against a white tower of hawthorn in which the voices of the birds tinkled like little bells.
Men were pressing round, farmers and graziers and butchers, drawn by the spectacle of Joanna Godden at war with her looker in the middle of Lydd market. Alce touched her arm appealingly "Come away, Joanna," he murmured. She flung round at him. "Keep dear leave me to settle my own man." There was a titter in the crowd.
"You'll be taking the wethers to Lydd this morning?" "Surelye." "How many are you taking?" "Maybe two score." "You can take the lot. It'll save us their grazing money this winter, and we can start fattening the tegs in the spring." "There's but two score wethers fit for market." "How d'you mean?" "The others äun't fatted präaperly."
Not that he and Joanna talked of light and graceful things ... they talked, after spades and harness, of horses and sheep, and of her ideas on breaking up grass, which was to be a practical scheme at Ansdore that spring in spite of the neighbours, of the progress of the new light railway from Lydd to Appledore, of the advantages and disadvantages of growing lucerne.
No one ever drew more legitimate consequence from certain existing premises. One other story should not be omitted of this noble breed of water-dogs. A vessel was driven on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling furiously. Eight poor fellows were crying for help, but not a boat could be got off to their assistance.
She even liked the gossip with which she was surrounded, the looks that were turned upon her when she drove into Rye or Lydd or New Romney the "there goes Joanna Godden" of folk she passed. She had no acute sense of their disapproval; if she became aware of it she would only repeat to herself that she would "show 'em the style" which she certainly did.
Ellen would come now and then and sit on her bed, and wander round the room playing with Joanna's ornaments she wore a little satisfied smile on her face, and about her was a queer air of restlessness and contentment which baffled and annoyed her sister. The officers from Lydd did not now come so often to Ansdore.
Ellen on her part resented the way Joanna still made use of him, sending him to run errands and make inquiries for her just as she used in the old days before his marriage. "Arthur, I hear there's some good pigs going at Honeychild auction I can't miss market at Lydd, but you might call round and have a look for me."