It was an eighty-cow dairy, and the troop of milkers, regular andsupernumerary, were all at work; for, though the time of year was asyet but early April, the feed lay entirely in water-meadows, and thecows were 'in full pail.' The hour was about six in the evening,and three-fourths of the large, red, rectangular animals having beenfinished off, there was opportunity for a little conversation.

　　'He do bring home his bride to-morrow, I hear. They've come as faras Anglebury to-day.'

　　The voice seemed to proceed from the belly of the cow called Cherry,but the speaker was a milking-woman, whose face was buried in theflank of that motionless beast.

　　'Hav' anybody seen her?' said another.

　　There was a negative response from the first. 'Though they sayshe's a rosy-cheeked, tisty-tosty little body enough,' she added;and as the milkmaid spoke she turned her face so that she couldglance past her cow's tail to the other side of the barton, where athin, fading woman of thirty milked somewhat apart from the rest.

　　'Years younger than he, they say,' continued the second, with also aglance of reflectiveness in the same direction.

　　'How old do you call him, then?'

　　'Thirty or so.'

　　'More like forty,' broke in an old milkman near, in a long whitepinafore or 'wropper,' and with the brim of his hat tied down, sothat he looked like a woman. ''A was born before our Great Weir wasbuilded, and I hadn't man's wages when I laved water there.'

　　The discussion waxed so warm that the purr of the milk-streamsbecame jerky, till a voice from another cow's belly cried withauthority, 'Now then, what the Turk do it matter to us about FarmerLodge's age, or Farmer Lodge's new mis'ess? I shall have to pay himnine pound a year for the rent of every one of these milchers,whatever his age or hers. Get on with your work, or 'twill be darkafore we have done. The evening is pinking in a'ready.' Thisspeaker was the dairyman himself; by whom the milkmaids and men wereemployed.

　　Nothing more was said publicly about Farmer Lodge's wedding, but thefirst woman murmured under her cow to her next neighbour, ''Tis hardfor SHE,' signifying the thin worn milkmaid aforesaid.

　　'O no,' said the second. 'He ha'n't spoke to Rhoda Brook foryears.'

　　When the milking was done they washed their pails and hung them on amany-forked stand made of the peeled limb of an oak-tree, setupright in the earth, and resembling a colossal antlered horn. Themajority then dispersed in various directions homeward. The thinwoman who had not spoken was joined by a boy of twelve orthereabout, and the twain went away up the field also.

　　Their course lay apart from that of the others, to a lonely spothigh above the water-meads, and not far from the border of EgdonHeath, whose dark countenance was visible in the distance as theydrew nigh to their home.

　　'They've just been saying down in barton that your father brings hisyoung wife home from Anglebury to-morrow,' the woman observed. 'Ishall want to send you for a few things to market, and you'll bepretty sure to meet 'em.'

　　'Yes, mother,' said the boy. 'Is father married then?'

　　'Yes . . . You can give her a look, and tell me what's she's like,if you do see her.'

　　'Yes, mother.'

　　'If she's dark or fair, and if she's tall--as tall as I. And if sheseems like a woman who has ever worked for a living, or one that hasbeen always well off, and has never done anything, and shows marksof the lady on her, as I expect she do.'

　　'Yes.'

　　They crept up the hill in the twilight, and entered the cottage. Itwas built of mud-walls, the surface of which had been washed by manyrains into channels and depressions that left none of the originalflat face visible; while here and there in the thatch above a raftershowed like a bone protruding through the skin.

　　She was kneeling down in the chimney-corner, before two pieces ofturf laid together with the heather inwards, blowing at the red-hotashes with her breath till the turves flamed. The radiance lit herpale cheek, and made her dark eyes, that had once been handsome,seem handsome anew. 'Yes,' she resumed, 'see if she is dark orfair, and if you can, notice if her hands be white; if not, see ifthey look as though she had ever done housework, or are milker'shands like mine.'

　　The boy again promised, inattentively this time, his mother notobserving that he was cutting a notch with his pocket-knife in thebeech-backed chair.