.. Well,
Tess ought to go to this other member of our family. She'd be sure
to win the lady--Tess would; and likely enough 'twould lead to some
noble gentleman marrying her. In short, I know it."
"How?"
"I tried her fate in the _Fortune-Teller_, and it brought out that
very thing! ... You should ha' seen how pretty she looked to-day;
her skin is as sumple as a duchess'."
"What says the maid herself to going?"
"I've not asked her. She don't know there is any such lady-relation
yet. But it would certainly put her in the way of a grand marriage,
and she won't say nay to going."
"Tess is queer."
"But she's tractable at bottom. Leave her to me."
Though this conversation had been private, sufficient of its import
reached the understandings of those around to suggest to them that
the Durbeyfields had weightier concerns to talk of now than common
folks had, and that Tess, their pretty eldest daughter, had fine
prospects in store.
"Tess is a fine figure o' fun, as I said to myself to-day when I zeed
her vamping round parish with the rest," observed one of the elderly
boozers in an undertone. "But Joan Durbeyfield must mind that she
don't get green malt in floor." It was a local phrase which had a
peculiar meaning, and there was no reply.
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