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 The boy took up the basket, and as he set out the notes of a brass band were heard from the direction of the village.

‘What’s that?’ said Durbeyfield, ‘Not on account o’ I?’

‘&thinsp;’Tis the women’s club-walking, Sir John. Why, your daughter is one o’ the members.’

‘To be sure—I’d quite forgot it in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ’ee, and order that carriage, and maybe I’ll drive round and inspect the club.’

The lad departed, and Durbeyfield lay waiting on the grass and daisies in the evening sun. Not a soul passed that way for a long while, and the faint notes of the band were the only human sounds audible within the rim of blue hills.