Durbeyfield, leaning back, and with his eyes closed luxuriously, was
waving his hand above his head, and singing in a slow recitative--
"I've-got-a-gr't-family-vault-at-Kingsbere--and
knighted-forefathers-in-lead-coffins-there!"
The clubbists tittered, except the girl called Tess--in whom a slow
heat seemed to rise at the sense that her father was making himself
foolish in their eyes.
"He's tired, that's all," she said hastily, "and he has got a lift
home, because our own horse has to rest to-day."
"Bless thy simplicity, Tess," said her companions. "He's got his
market-nitch. Haw-haw!"
"Look here; I won't walk another inch with you, if you say any jokes
about him!" Tess cried, and the colour upon her cheeks spread over
her face and neck. In a moment her eyes grew moist, and her glance
drooped to the ground. Perceiving that they had really pained her
they said no more, and order again prevailed. Tess's pride would not
allow her to turn her head again, to learn what her father's meaning
was, if he had any; and thus she moved on with the whole body to the
enclosure where there was to be dancing on the green. By the time
the spot was reached she has recovered her equanimity, and tapped her
neighbour with her wand and talked as usual.
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