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But after all, his position as Joanna Godden's husband would be better even than that of a partner in the firm of Sherwood and Son. What was Sherwood's but a firm of carpet-makers? a small firm of carpet-makers. As Joanna's husband he would be a Country Gentleman, perhaps even a County Gentleman.
"Would you like to drive?" she asked Joanna, when they had taken their seats in Misleham's ancient gig, with the crate of fowls behind them. She felt rather shy of handling the reins under Joanna Godden's eye, for everyone knew that Joanna drove like a Jehu, something tur'ble. But the great woman shook her head. She felt tired, she said, with the heat. So Mrs.
When he saw there was a chance of Ellen, he would surely take it; and then what a triumph! How people would talk and marvel when they saw Joanna Godden's life-long admirer turn from her to her little sister! They would be forced to acknowledge Ellen as a superior and enchanting person.
In vain Joanna promised him a liberal allowance of "Foreign Parts" for their honeymoon Bertie's little soul hankered after the Polytechnic, his pals who were going with him, and the kindred spirits he would meet at the chalets. Going on his honeymoon as Joanna Godden's husband was a different matter and could not take the place of such an excursion. Joanna did not press him.
Besides, everyone was in a hurry to be finished and hear the reading of old Thomas Godden's will. Already several interesting rumours were afloat, notably one that he had left Ansdore to Joanna only on condition that she married Arthur Alce within the year. "She's a mare that's never been präaperly broken in, and she wants a strong hand to do it."
She had triumphed gloriously over everyone who had foretold her ruin through breaking up pasture; strong-minded farmers could scarcely bear to drive along that lap of the Brodnyx road which ran through Joanna's wheat, springing slim and strong and heavy-eared as from Lothian soil if there had been another way from Brodnyx to Rye market they would have taken it; indeed it was rumoured that on one occasion Vine had gone by train from Appledore because he couldn't abear the sight of Joanna Godden's ploughs.
"Joanna Godden's a woman, fur all her man's ways, and you can't expéct her to have präaper know wud sheep." "I wonder if she'll get shut of him after this," said Vine. "Not she! She don't see through him yet." "She'll never see through him," said Prickett solemnly. "The only kind of man a woman ever sees through is the kind she don't like to look at."
Hitherto there had been only one shape and colour of waggon on the Marsh a plain low-sided trough of deep sea-blue. The name was always painted in white on a small black wooden square attached to the side. Thomas Godden's waggons had been no departure from this rule.
He wore, as a farm-labourer of the older sort, a semi-clerical hat, which with his long white beard gave him down to the middle of his chest a resemblance to that type still haunting the chapels of marsh villages and known as Aged Evangelist from his chest to his knees, he was mulberry coat and brass buttons, Miss Joanna Godden's coachman, though as the vapours of the marsh had shaped him into a shepherd's crook, his uniform lost some of its effect.
I've half a mind not to be in I'll leave a polite message, saying "Miss Godden's compliments, but she's had to go home, owing to one of her cows having a miscarriage." I'll be wise to go home to-morrow reckon I ain't fit to be trusted alone.
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